


fucked up by the blame

by autisticandrewminyard (transtwinyards)



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Aaron POV, Asexual Character, Canonical Child Abuse, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Non-Graphic Violence, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Recreational Drug Use, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-07 15:11:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8805745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transtwinyards/pseuds/autisticandrewminyard
Summary: Tableaus and vignettes of the life of Aaron Minyard the moment he went from only child to brother to orphan.Snippets of Aaron's life from age 13 to 21. Spans from his life before Andrew until days after The King's Men.





	1. sound bites and what could have been

**Author's Note:**

> shoutout to [necklace](http://archiveofourown.org/users/necklace) who wanted this just as much as I did! They really pushed me to double my word count within the past few hours, so go thank them too!
> 
> also, the title is from a song called Brother by Matt Corby. Y'all should go check it out!

There was a piece of stationary paper folded in the hidden pocket inside Aaron’s wallet that made the money feel insignificant. He had a name and an address and, effective as of a week ago, a long-lost twin brother now found. An Andrew Doe was staying with a Cass and Richard Spear somewhere in the wide city of Oakland.

Aaron felt it was justified to at least get Andrew’s information, having given his to the PD so that the guy could talk to him.

In the background, Aaron tuned out his biology class as Mrs. Levitt droned on about mitosis, and he couldn’t help but think _maybe that’s how we happened; maybe nuclei have their own gravity; maybe we were meant to have met each other either way; maybe we were all that, brother cells splitting from the mother cell, separate existences having been one centuries ago, seconds ago._

He remembered the way said mother gave him the cold shoulder after he confronted her about what she said to Spear over the phone, two nights ago.

“I don’t care about what he’s like now, or how he’s doing,” she told Cass. “Why’d you think I brought only one of them back?”

The words stung, but he had a feeling he already knew beforehand anyway.

After moving from San Jose just so Tilda could meet up with potential axe-murderer, Benny, from Oakland, Aaron thought he’d been giving Tilda enough inches in his life. He did great in school; he kept clean inside the house; he picked up after his mother’s drunken bouts; he made sure she drank her prescription pills every night. All those years of sucking up to her, and she couldn’t even give him the satisfaction of having this steady illusion of normalcy in his head: that his mother’s attention was attainable.

_Why’d you think I brought only one of them back?_

Given the benefit of the doubt, Aaron would have ended up a Doe too. Thirteen years of alcohol and barely sustainable living and neglectful parenting wasn’t going to change Tilda’s reluctance to take care of him. They were both Minyards, and Minyards were not the kind of people who changed their minds easy. If to other people, love was unconditional, to a Minyard, distaste was.

Idly, Aaron wondered if being a Doe was better than being a Minyard. Idly, he wondered if Andrew wanted to meet him too. Idly, he wondered if he got the short end of the stick instead.

What was Andrew like?

“Minyard, can you please read the next paragraph?” Mrs. Levitt called up. Aaron reeled his thoughts back in and stood to recite the next paragraph.

* * *

 

Aaron stared blankly at the single white envelope as he locked himself into his room. He was lucky he’d gotten home ahead of Tilda and Benny because he wouldn’t have been able to spot it if she’d gotten to it first.

He fished his wallet out of his back pocket and, with shaking fingers, unfolded the piece of stationary he’d stuck into its hidden pocket. He compared the address on the envelope and the one on the stationary and found it, irrevocably, the same. Something in the back of his head told him he should find this funny. Chances were, the contents of the envelope were made by the person who had the same features as his.

He tore open the envelope and, in his haste, almost tore part of the letter. He couldn’t stop his shaking fingers, so he laid it down on his desk as he dropped his bag by the floor.

 

> _If the Pig is right, then the person who’s reading this is either my biological mother or my doppelganger. (Preferably it’d be my doppelganger.)_
> 
> _We’re both thirteen, and we haven’t met each other for the majority of our miserable lives. Let’s keep it that way._
> 
> _\- Andrew_

His fingers shook, his eyes taking in the blocky handwriting, so different from his own chicken scratch. He couldn't understand the heat engulfing him at the moment, if it was anger making him breathe hard or relief.

He crumpled the letter and threw it in the trash bin by his bed, fuming.

 

In the middle of the night, he fished it out and folded it into his wallet.

* * *

 

There were a lot of things Aaron hated.

Firstly, there was the humid South Carolinian weather, never settling for cold or hot, always fluctuating so he couldn’t settle for more practical wear. Columbia was a humid city, and though the highway from Upstate Regional Airport wasn’t as dull as he thought it’d be, as compared to the beach-front view of the highways from San Jose to Oakland, it still choked him.

Secondly, he hated his cousin, Nicky, who fled to Germany the moment Aaron and Tilda’s plane landed in South Carolina. He’d agreed to this, no questions asked, not just because Tilda had broken up with Benny, or because explaining bruises to his friends in Oakland was getting old. He agreed to this because he was going to have someone on his side, for fucking once, and Nicky, in his flaming glory, fled from his parents’ clutches the first chance he got. Aaron hated him less than Luther and Maria, but he hated him nonetheless and in a Minyard’s world, that was crucial.

Couldn’t he have faked being straight until Aaron got settled? Couldn’t he have waited long enough to consider bringing Aaron along with him?

Most of all, he hated having to wait.

“Mike, this is fucking amazing, you should try it,” Jordan, a guy from his homeroom class in Macon High (coincidentally, also his drug dealer), said from where he was absolutely smashed by the bottom bleacher. He was waving the patch of smiley stickers at Aaron and mimed placing one on his tongue, but missed and had his fingers landing by his chin instead. When he slurred, Aaron caught a glimpse of it on his tongue.

“I told you not to call me that,” Aaron retorted by rote, eying the setting sun from over the fence. “It’s Aaron, not Mike, not Michael. Aaron.”

“Alright, Mike, chill.”

Ignoring Jordan as effectively as he had in the past few minutes, he calculated the time zones and stood to leave.

By now, Andrew would have already received his second letter. By now, Tilda would have already been passed out, deep enough in her slumber that Aaron can pad around the flat with bottles and cups clinking between his fingers without any of her recent hindrance. Aaron’s side throbbed at the memory of her rough hands against it.

His wallet felt heavy with the weight of crummy piece of paper that proved that he was a sentimental asshole. _What would happen if..._

He pocketed his fix and kept his hand there. His fingers shook, this time with withdrawal instead of exhaustion.

He needed to get home.

He tossed a couple of bills at Jordan and stormed off.

* * *

 

Aaron’s bored reflection stared back at him through the loading screen.

The bruise under his eye had been given enough treatment that it didn’t swell and take part of his vision, but it looked haunting under the harsh incandescent lights of Macon High’s library.

(He’d been lucky this time. The last bruise had popped a vein somewhere near his left eye and had stained it red for a few days. It helped hide the redness in his eyes when he was high, but it was certainly hard to look at every morning.)

When the head nurse asked where he’d gotten that bruise, he told them that he got it from the last Exy match. It was an easy, flimsy lie, and no one in the school cared enough about the Exy team aside from the coach himself. You couldn’t get a bruised eye from underneath the helmet if you tried, but the head nurse didn’t need to know about that

Exy was a recent obsession, more popular in collegiate levels. Aaron cared little about it, but it got him out of class, he was good at it, and it wasn’t as involving as football or basketball. The racket was a cool bonus, and no one could see his hands shaking or his bruises or his limps from underneath all the gear. It gave him a reason to beat someone up every Thursday during games.

The site loaded, and the last thing Aaron expected in the e-mail inbox was an e-mail from Richard Spear. He’d assumed the Spears were the kind of people who didn’t know technology like this worked. Maybe they asked Andrew?

He clicked it open without bothering with reading the subject, and if the email from Richard was a surprise, the contents of the email were even more surprising.

 

 

> _Aaron,_
> 
> _Cass and I just wanted to let you know that we received your letter for Andrew, but we’re saddened to say that he is not with us at the moment. I have the article on it attached for you, but Andrew sent his regards from inside his facility, once we redirected the letter to him._
> 
> _Please, do not contact us again,  
>  _ _R. Spear._

He didn’t click on the article. He hadn’t logged in at the library to figure things out about Andrew, and he knew that the internet connection in the library could barely load the e-mail site, much less an ad-driven online news site. He saw the URL on it and surmised it had something to do with Oakland police.

Aaron wasn’t stupid, knew enough to put two and two together.

Andrew was locked up in juvie, for reasons Aaron was very much not curious about at the moment.

His mind raced back to what he’d written in the letter he sent about a month ago, and found that he couldn’t remember what he’d said. In a way, he knew he said something about wanting to meet up. The last time either Spear or Minyard planned on it, it hadn’t worked, due to Tilda’s interference. Aaron wanted it to work, about a month ago. At the moment, he didn’t want anything to do with a person who had a PO for a friend but could still land in a juvenile detention center.

He deleted the e-mail and checked around for something else, just so he could stretch his hour. Tilda had a few more minutes before her shift began, and Aaron didn’t want to come back to the apartment until she left.

 

* * *

 

Aaron _really_ hated Luther, especially because of what he’d done after he found out that his own son was attracted to boys, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to pounce for this opportunity.

After two years, California was a sight for sore eyes. Aaron had hated every single day he’d spent in that suburban neighborhood in Columbia, and the chance to jump on a plane to go back, without his mother and her countless line of boyfriends and cases of beer, wasn’t something Aaron could pass up.

Even if it meant meeting up with that long-lost twin brother he almost forgot he had. The same one that landed in juvie for reasons Aaron didn’t want to know about.

Luther Hemmick was incredibly idealistic and traditional. That was part of why Aaron hated him. As soon as Aaron had brought up that Andrew was in juvie at Thanksgiving last year, he had a hunch he was going to regret the decision of ever even stumbling upon the news, much less regret telling his uncle. But he was a Minyard through and through, and he wasn’t born to regret any of his decisions, so he stowed his whining towards the back of his mind (like he’d learned to do a long time ago) and sucked it up.

He didn’t think his blabbing off was going to result in the meet-and-greet he’d initially wanted two years ago. Talk about too little too late.

It was awkward seeing his doppelganger (Andrew chose his words well; the term stuck to Aaron’s head throughout all these years) sitting on a boring leather couch across from his uncle Luther. Aaron thought maybe this was what people saw when they looked at him.

He looked small in his orange uniform. Andrew was broad-shouldered and his forearms, wrapped in gauze, were just as defined. Aaron had a bit of muscle too, but only in minimal places, spread out on his legs and calves and upper arms; and he wasn’t as buff as Andrew was.

If Aaron thought his face was hard to look at on the regular, seeing someone else wear it was worse. Andrew was incredibly impassive, and didn’t even seem to acknowledge that Aaron or Luther were there. He just sat there, silent, the jaw tight and his eyes gazing into middle distance. He looked like he was forcing his mind elsewhere.

It was unsettling, how much Aaron could see himself in Andrew. They were strangers with the same face, with the same mother, with the same tics.

“Are you just going to stand there? You were the one who wanted to see me.”

They had the same voice too, apparently.

Aaron sat down on the other end of the couch Luther was sitting on. He didn’t know what his uncle had told Andrew, but he wasn’t going to bother correcting Andrew. For a minister, Luther sure lied a lot.

“I’m seeing you right now,” Aaron quipped, neither cautious nor wary, like it seemed Luther wanted him to be with the gaze he sent Aaron’s way. He and Andrew were virtually strangers. He refused to be cowed by his look-alike even if he was a serial murderer. “I’ve seen you for fourteen years, and I haven’t seen you at all. And the name’s Aaron. Sounds better than doppelganger. Shorter, too.”

Andrew finally dragged his mind out of the middle distance and met Aaron’s eyes. His gaze was dead. Aaron felt like he was mimicking Andrew, or Andrew was mimicking him. It was uncontrollable, but he didn’t drop his gaze.

“I didn’t ask,” he retorted.

“I’m telling you anyway. What _are_ you asking, then?”

Andrew lifted his chin, as if in thought. He took a moment, then gave Aaron a cold little smile. It didn’t reach his dead eyes, and it unnerved Aaron to no end. He wanted it off his face, effective as of now, but the reflection that was Andrew didn’t.

Remembering that Andrew was his own person was going to be difficult.

“Who gave you that bruise.”

The question, if Aaron could even call it that, came from way out of left field. He checked himself, remembering the bruise by the crook of his arm from when Tilda had roughly pulled at him last night. She had slipped on something while he escorted her to her bedroom, then she had yelled at him as if he was the one who’d dripped beer everywhere.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Aaron shot back. He was aware that his face was dark, and Andrew seemed content to find a reaction. Something in him burned at that. That was all Andrew was aiming for, a reaction.

“Mommy forgot who was helping her up last night, then.” Andrew surmised, like it was a conclusion normal people came to whenever they saw people with bruises. Aaron simmered in his seat. The infuriating cold smile was still on his twin’s face.

Aaron forced himself not to react.

“That’s quite enough, Andrew.”

Aaron had forgotten Luther was there. At once, his anger redirected. He’d met _this_ asshole because Luther wanted him to. Aaron had already given up on Andrew a year ago, and this was not going as planned.

“I brought him here so you could meet.”

Andrew’s smile dropped, his face going back to impassivity. “We’ve met, Luther. Problem solved. You can kindly fuck off now.”

Andrew certainly didn’t need to tell Aaron. With that, he stood.

“Where are you going?” Luther demanded.

“Back to the hotel. He’s impossible like this.”

Luther made a choked noise, as if cutting off his frustration. It was a completely un-Christian sound that Aaron resisted giving Luther a poor rendition of Andrew’s mockingly cold smile. “We’re not done here.”

Andrew brought his attention back to Aaron. “No, he’s right. I’m impossible like this.”

It seemed as if Andrew couldn’t multitask with his attention span, or barely could. Aaron knew how that felt. It wasn’t so much empathizing with his brother’s depressive mood as it was a thing that regularly happened in school. It was part of why Aaron got into so many fights anyhow. He could barely keep his attention on both his academics and Exy, why bother with other people?

Aaron met Andrew’s gaze one last time, then nodded.

That, more than anything, felt more significant than Andrew fishing for a fight.

 

* * *

 

What Aaron liked most about agreeing to be the tech on group projects was that he could multitask. He’d play music while racking up raw data in Excel sheets and edit videos while he looked up some things for his research papers. It was convenient, and it was an excuse to get out of the house, especially because Tilda’s insurance didn’t call for an Internet connection.

So, after editing videos and waiting for them to render, he opened up a search engine and typed in his brother’s name.

(Odd, it took him three weeks to rationalize that Andrew somehow equated to brother. Three years ago, Aaron was an only child.)

The first thing that showed up was an article about Kevin Day and Riko Moriyama.

Aaron wasn’t entirely obsessed with Exy, but even he knew enough obscure popular media to know who Kevin and Riko were.

Being raised by a collegiate-level coach was one thing, being raised to be stars of the sport said coach taught was another.  For one, Aaron thought it to be pretty fucking unethical, all things considered. At the very least, Tilda didn’t raise him on alcohol like her life depended on it. One man’s obsession can lead to another’s insanity, and all.

For another, he was impressed it hadn’t driven one of the teens insane yet.

He clicked on the article.

He skimmed it, but apparently, three months prior to Andrew and Aaron’s last conversation (it wasn’t as disastrous as the first, and it hadn’t consisted of Andrew trying to get a rise out of him. Pigs would have to fly before Aaron admitted to himself that it was actually a pleasant conversation), Kevin and Riko had come together on a plane from Maryland to California to personally see to recruit Andrew to their high school team.

There had been bribery, as the rich and the famous were wont to do. The article didn’t have to say so for Aaron to know so. It took a lot to convince Andrew into doing something he didn’t want to do, and apparently Kevin and Riko failed to do so.

 

 

> _Moriyama seemed crestfallen to admit it, but “[Doe] was not the one we were looking for. Kevin had been so excited to get him on the court for our team, but I thought, he simply lacked the passion.”_

Aaron resisted smirking at the statement. That was a complete understatement. Aaron has had about two pleasant exchanges with Andrew, one of which was completely nonverbal, and he knew that sports weren’t something his brother would take to getting obsessed with. Aaron himself had the potential to be just as apathetic, and he understood Andrew’s reasons.

Juvenile detention centers worked two ways, according to Aaron’s research: group therapy or sports therapy. Andrew was understandably antisocial, considering his instigative attitude. He liked to get a rise out of people that he didn’t like, so group therapy was a big no unless the therapists wanted a majority of the kids in Andrew’s group to walk out crying. Aaron wondered if he openly antagonized Kevin and Riko when they went to recruit him and snorted at the thought.

Chances were, Andrew probably did.

The tab for the rendering video flashed, signaling that it was done. Aaron closed the article and went back to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'll update when i can, folks!! exams only recently released me from its clutches, but school isn't relenting for projects just yet.
> 
> if you wanna, you can contact me on my [tumblr](http://stubbornjerk.tumblr.com). Or, you can reblog the [text post](http://stubbornjerk.tumblr.com/post/154280084205) if you want to support the cause that is me being motivated to continue this!


	2. promises, promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> before and after tilda
> 
> (enter: nicholas esteban hemmick)

A week into being a Minyard, Andrew already shook the foundation of what Aaron and Tilda had made for themselves.

It wasn’t that Andrew left an imprint of himself in every room he went into. In fact, it was as if he didn’t even live there at all. It was the first thing Aaron noticed when his brother finally moved in.

(The twin bed on the other side of his room looked rumpled enough that he would have sat on it without thought and got off, the bed sheets wrinkled. But otherwise, it didn’t look as if anyone slept on it. Aaron was pretty sure Andrew didn’t even use the blanket folded neatly on top of the pillows.

The only clutter around their room was Aaron’s. The contents of Andrew’s duffel, when he arrived, were unpacked into another drawer tucked neatly between the corner of his bed and the desk they shared.

If you looked into the room, it was like a piece at an art museum, parallels of a before and an after. On the right side of the room was the picture perfect image of a sixteen-year old male’s room, and on the left side of the room was the picture of that room when no one lived in it.)

It wasn’t that Andrew, now a Minyard, got in their mother’s face about his existence either. On the contrary, he wasn’t even in the apartment enough to exist in it.

(Most days, Aaron woke up to a bedroom with only him in it every day, and got to sleep like that every night too. The days when he woke up to the sound of the front door closing down the hall, he could count on one hand. Literally, it was like Andrew didn’t live there. He didn’t know what Andrew was up to every day, and neither did Tilda. When asked, neither did Luther nor Maria.)

No, what _did_ bother Aaron and Tilda’s balance was Tilda herself.

Now, Aaron didn’t like pointing fingers. Pointing fingers meant it could be traced back to him, and that meant someone would be on his back on it. He hated having people on his back about something, because for the most part, if he pointed fingers, it was because it was the truth. But he could recall, perfectly, how his life was before Andrew came into the picture.

Before Andrew, his mother would at least try to mask her antipathy towards him. Aaron could go on pretending she was keeping him around because she wanted to, behind the mask of indifference she put on her face whenever he set to helping her out of the couch every evening. He could go on with his life denying he wanted any part of her approval, or anyone’s for that matter, but preening under any kind of approval he received either way. He knew he was fucked up, but at the very least he was wanted sometimes.

Ever since Andrew turned up out of nowhere, ever since his name tumbled out of that Berkley PO’s mouth and into the Minyards’ ears, everything had gone wrong. It was like everything he knew was set an inch to the right and Aaron couldn’t take one step without bumping into something and ruining everything.

Ever since Andrew came into their lives, Tilda wouldn’t even talk to Aaron, much less look at him on most days. If she wasn’t drunk, high, or asleep, she was angry with him. He ran out of friends sooner than he could explain himself, and the only friend he could think of making, his own cousin, fled the moment they landed in Columbia.

Aaron didn’t know what he’d done wrong. He just knew most of it was Andrew’s fault for reminding Tilda of their shared existence.  Tilda could only deal with one of them at a time.

 _Or_ … Or maybe she could deal with both of them, but only when they were both there at the same time?

It was worth a fucking shot. In the middle of summer vacation, Aaron didn’t have anything to lose.

So, after spending weeks of thinking and thinking, Aaron sat out one evening, sitting in his room— _their_ room—with the lights turned off in fear that Andrew wouldn’t come in unless he thought Aaron was asleep. He didn’t know why Andrew did that.

He didn’t know, he realized. A month into staying with them, and he didn’t know Andrew at all. He was a Doe living in a Minyard’s home. What was that like?

What was it like to be Andrew Doe, orphan, instead of Andrew Minyard, twin? What was it like to have to get used to the place you live in with the distinct knowledge that you’ll be moving out sometime the next month when your foster parents didn’t like you?

What was it like to have met a brother you didn’t know exist, to have a mother who gave you away, and to live with both of them because they had the power to take you back, just like that?

The door clicked open. Lights flooded the room from the hallway, but Aaron didn’t move save for his breath hitching at the unexpectedness of it. He hadn’t heard Andrew move inside the paper-thin walls of the apartment; hadn’t seen him since he got here either.

For a moment, Aaron couldn’t remember what Andrew was like to begin with. He couldn’t convince himself that he wasn’t out of his mind and made up some bullshit story about a long-lost twin brother he could barely talk to, some convoluted plot pulled out from one of those Korean TV dramas that one of his friends from San Jose liked so much. It was a pipe dream, at most, a little string of hope that someone, someone who looked like him, could save his ass from his mother’s clutches.

He probably shouldn’t have taken heroin before summer vacation. He probably should have picked up a few more packs. There was a bottle full of Xanax pills in the medicine cabinet, prescribed to Tilda. Maybe he should take those to take the edge off. Maybe he should get in touch with Tilda’s dealer.

Face shadowed by standing against the light, Andrew appeared taller, though Aaron knew that they were both only five feet. He was real, and that was all that mattered at the moment.

Andrew was real and Aaron wasn’t crazy.

“Where were you?” Aaron asked, just to start things off, maybe to keep his mind off irrational thoughts. His voice was hoarse with dryness. He realized, just then, that he hadn’t gone out of their room since Tilda got home from work hours ago.

In turn, Andrew didn’t answer. He stepped into the room and crossed to his side of it. He flicked on the lamp by the foot of his own bed though, so that meant he was either going to stay awake some more or he was going to listen to Aaron ask him questions, because his answers weren’t guaranteed.

Aaron scowled at the reminder, the side of his face stinging from the bruise on it.

Andrew sat down on by the desk they shared, a cheap plastic lighter in his left hand. From his vantage point, he considered Aaron with an impassive gaze. It was unnerving, being on the other end of an intense stare that would have looked like it belonged to a corpse. Considering that it came with his own features, Aaron didn’t like much.

“Haven’t seen you since you moved in. Almost thought you were just some kind of fucked up pipe dream,” Aaron said. He pulled his feet up on his bed and sat back until his back hit the wall, curling in on himself.

“Why do you let her do that?” Andrew asked.

Aaron remembered now. Andrew only talked when he wanted answers, a reaction, or, on the rare occasions, because he wanted to say something.

In one question, Andrew managed to do all three, and Aaron, easily infuriated, let out a frustrated sigh. “So you _do_ speak outside the orange jumpsuit. Whaddo you want me to say, jackass? Because I want her to? Because I think she’s just weird and that’s how she shows affection?”

Aaron was less infuriated to hear Andrew’s question, and more angered by the fact that he knew that Andrew just wanted a reaction and he was willingly giving it. But could you blame him? A whole month of sharing a room, a face, and a mother with the guy and not even a single sentence had passed between them.

Andrew let all that go over their heads, flicking his lighter on, then off.  “You shouldn’t let her.”

_On, off._

Aaron snorted derisively. “Why not?”

_On, off._

“You don’t deserve it.”

_On, off._

Aaron knew. He wasn’t fucking stupid, okay, he knew he didn’t deserve it when his mother beat him up, but fuck if he was gonna fight back. It’ll only get worse, he told himself. There’s no point. She provided food, shelter, clothes; she paid for his tuition; she _raised_ him.

“Neither did you deserve foster care. Look where knowing that’s got you,” Aaron grumbled instead. He refused to sound like he was appropriating her abuse, even if he did.

_On, off._

Andrew didn’t answer. There was a moment of silence before he began fidgeting with his lighter again.

_On, off._

Aaron snapped, “Could you stop that?”

Andrew stopped.

“I can make you a deal,” Andrew said. He moved to pull a packet of cigarettes out of his front pocket. He shook one out, and lit it. From his position on their shared desk, the smoke wafted easily out from his mouth towards the screened window, drifting away with the wind drifting from four-stories up. “I won’t let any woman hurt you from this point on, starting with her.”

Aaron thought about it. He started this talk so he could wrangle Andrew into being a decent brother and son for once, if only to please Tilda. But here Andrew was, promising to end part of the reason why Aaron approached him in the first place.

Aaron didn’t have anything to lose. Did Andrew?

“What’s in it for you?”

Andrew’s thumb twitched, like he wished he could fiddle with the lighter again. Instead, he inhaled, the action moving the cherry so fast down the stick, Aaron was afraid Andrew would push it until his lips burned off. Andrew plucked the joint from his lips before that could happen, blowing smoke out of the window. It was a move as familiar to Andrew as sniffing heroin was for Aaron.

“You don’t make friends ‘til we graduate from high school.”

Aaron sat up from his bed. “Why not?”

Andrew eyed him up and down like he was surprised that anyone related to him would ask such a stupid question. Aaron willed himself not to react.

“Makes my job easier.”

Aaron thought about it. If Andrew just wanted someone by his side, he should have just asked. Aaron was as friendless as they came, and Tilda wasn’t really a huge factor on as to why. Aaron wasn’t a friendly person, and ever since they got in Columbia, he’d gone from worse to worst.

It’d be better if she stopped hitting him though. Aaron had nothing to lose.

“Deal.”

* * *

 

Aaron stared down at his mother’s casket, ignoring the buzz of the funeral parlor around him. His reflection stared back at him, impassive, and he chose to ignore that too, but not without hearing his blood roar in his ears.

The first few months into his junior year disturbed him now. In hindsight, all of Andrew’s mannerisms glared back at him with obnoxious clarity. He’d been stupid enough to believe Andrew was just looking to be himself all along.

Aaron should have known Andrew wasn’t just giving him the chances he couldn’t have, because of their deal. He’d been too desperate for the approval he thought he could live without that he grabbed the chance for it as soon as Andrew dangled it right in his sights. He should have known what “pretend to be me at my group study meeting” meant. He should have _known_ that Andrew hated Tilda. He’d _known_ that Andrew had ulterior motives from the start: the deal, all those lunch breaks spent talking about Tilda and the past. He thought it was just Andrew getting to know him, he really did.

Aaron had some things on Andrew that no one else had, like the fact that Andrew liked sweets, was ticklish, or that he had more than five friends in five different police departments in five different counties in California (all of which were made due to being passed around from foster home to foster home, though none of them seemed to have testified to whatever crime Andrew had committed to end up in juvie). Andrew had eidetic memory and liked to listen to loud music. Aaron thought those little things were gems enough that, in exchange, he shared that Tilda had shared drugs with him before; and that more than once, he’d gotten into a fight about his bruises and attitude problem, which was just one more thing they both shared in common.

In hindsight, it was so fucking obvious, Aaron couldn’t help but scowl at his own stupidity. The magnitude of the things he shared over what little Andrew gave him was laughable, as was his gullible tendency to latch onto whoever accepted him first.

He didn’t really _know_ that Andrew would—

That his _own twin brother_ would—

But Aaron should have known. Andrew wasn’t raised a Minyard. He was a Doe, through and through. They’d let a stranger into their house, a stranger that had landed in juvie due to some crime he didn’t even think to ask about. It was hilarious to think that he could have been right about that serial murderer thing.

The asshole was lucky he was stuck in the hospital for another week, or Aaron would have taken his chances and sent him there himself.

A hand clamped down his shoulder, squeezing as a show of comfort. Aaron shrugged it off. He’d been getting a lot of those ever since the wake started. He was getting kind of tired of it.

The hand went for him again, and Aaron finally remembered who he went here as.

He slammed his elbow into the person’s gut, not adjusting the amount of power he put into that thrust, numb with enough grief to not care for the consequences.

His victim groaned in pain, but Aaron couldn’t, for the life of him, care. He turned around to see who it was and stopped midway.

There were two Hemmick siblings—one of which turned into a Minyard and died recently—and about five cousins from the Hemmick side who came to the funeral, all of which had children old enough to be Aaron’s parents. Of all the people in the funeral parlor, only two were not white.

“Who are you,” Aaron said, because Andrew never asked questions. He knew exactly who Nicholas Hemmick was, but Andrew certainly did not.

“You must be Andrew,” Nicky gasped, proving to be as gullible as Andrew thought everyone to be when he told Aaron to pretend to be him. “I’m a cousin of yours. Nicky Hemmick. Happen to see your twin around? I wanted to talk to the both of you about something, if you had the time to spare.”

Aaron ignored the way his fingers seized, his joints cracking softly. The black armbands stuck into his arms in the roiling heat of body heat from one too many Hemmicks in one place, and one short of Minyard. God, he needed a hit, just a few minutes to keep his mind off of everything: the wreck, his mother, his brother, his relatives, his life—

 Aaron took a deep breath.

So _now_ cousin Nicky was back from Germany. Aaron breathed in and out, subtle and slow, reminding himself that Nicky was his own person. He could do whatever he wanted because he had every right to. He’d taken to reminding himself that more often nowadays, especially after the wreck.

Unnerved by the silence, Nicky asked, “What happened?” He meant to ask _What happened to your mom?_ but Aaron knew enough to answer.

Aaron’s response was immediate, if a little bit practiced. The annoyance in his tone wasn’t hard to conjure up. “You can’t be stupid enough to come to a funeral not knowing what happened to the corpse.”

Nicky laughed despite himself, which was enough to ease Aaron’s nerves.

If Andrew wanted someone to stick around with him no matter what, Nicky was the guy he wanted. He didn’t even know if Andrew would like Nicky. He didn’t know if he wanted Andrew to like Nicky. Some part of him probably did, if some part of him thought that if Andrew wanted loyalty, he’d find it in Nicky. He was mature enough to wish his brother luck this early on, because as soon as Aaron finishes high school, the asshole can go fuck himself and die in a ditch for all Aaron cared.

“Ah, man, I can see how you and Aaron are related,” Nicky retorted, smiling.

Aaron stared at him for a moment, a bit incredulous that he can laugh when they’re very clearly at a funeral— _Tilda’s_ funeral— but decided to keep his act up. Without thought, he walked off towards the exit.

Nicky called out after him, stumbling to catch up, apologizing to relatives he bumped into as he followed. “Hey, Andrew! Slow down! Where’re you going?”

Aaron didn’t stop until they were out on the sidewalk, waving down a cab as Nicky caught his breath for the second time that day. A light sheet of rain was coming down, plastering his hair to his forehead and his jacket to his skin.

“You wanted to see Aaron, you’re getting your chance.” The cab pulled up with a splash, and Aaron pulled the door open, staring at Nicky. “Get in.”

Flustered, Nicky blinked at him. He hesitated for only a split second. Nicky slid into his seat. Aaron sat down beside him and told the cab driver where to go, resisting a shiver as the air-conditioning started cooling them down.

Aaron leaned back in his seat and took a moment to calm himself down. He took a moment to accept, for the thousandth time in the past three days, that Tilda is dead now, that she had died in a car wreck on a rainy day just like this one. He hated himself a little for having nothing to think about it than that, but told himself it was easier this way, that the grief would weigh more as time moved forward, that he wouldn’t begin missing her until he realized that he wouldn’t need to be on the Exy team anymore, because he didn’t need it to avoid her anymore.

For some reason, that made him feel a little bit better.

Once properly composed, he turned in his seat to face Nicky.

“Hey,” Aaron said, because he trusted Nicky, and it wasn’t like Nicky had anyone other than his German boyfriend to blab off to. “No one knows this, but Andrew’s the one hospitalized.”

Nicky laughed abruptly, disbelieving. “Right, and my father accepts the fact that I’ll get married to the man of my dreams in a few years. Big deal, little guy.”

Aaron bumped knees with Nicky, scowling. “I’m serious. He was the one in the wreck. I’m just pretending. It’s not that hard to pull off.”

Nicky’s face blanked for a few seconds, in thought. It would make sense that Nicky couldn’t tell them apart, considering the last time he and Aaron saw each other in person was when Aaron was eight and still an only child. Aaron couldn’t hold it against Nicky. Nowadays, even Aaron couldn’t find the line that separated him from Andrew.  They were so alike now, that it made him think that maybe one of them should have absorbed the other in the womb altogether. Would have solved all their problems.

The cab driver pulled up in front of the hospital, and Aaron gave him the money. As they walked up the drive towards the entrance, Aaron explained, “You’re going to have to tell Andrew that I told you already. I’m not going in there.”

Nicky broke his silence just then, with a quiet, “Why not?”

Aaron felt heat simmer under his own skin and told himself it was because of the goddamn armbands. He felt his fingers shake and told himself it was because of withdrawals. He kept his tone straight when he said, “Part for appearances, part for the blame. There were two people in that wreck and only one of them survived.”

Nicky stopped in his tracks, his face mortified when he realized what Aaron had just told him. “What? That’s—Aaron, it was an _accident_.”

Aaron ignored him again, walking up to the nurse’s station to tell the head nurse that they were visitors for an Aaron Minyard. The nurse let them know the room even though Aaron’s visited twice this week already.

Nicky had the decency to lower his voice as he stumbled to catch up with Aaron’s quick steps. “Seriously, it was an accident. Mom told me it was, when she got up to talk to me. It _was_ an accident… wasn’t it?”

Aaron jammed his finger into the elevator button, and glared at Nicky. There was thunder in his ears, the sound of two hunks of metal coming at each other at high velocity, a shaking point of impact between his eyes. He could feel a migraine forming as he took in just how healthy his cousin looked, how his brown skin glowed healthily, how his face filled in with enough to give him dimples whenever he smiled. He was the exact opposite of Aaron and Andrew; tall, brown, and expressive.

Aaron took a shaky breath. He kept his voice low, but he didn’t know how low that was.  “It was a _wreck,_ Nicky. I get that you missed out on a lot since you fucked your way through Europe, but that _was_ a fucking wreck, whether you like it or not.

“Now, you can believe me, the cousin who just lost his mother to a fucking sociopath, or you can believe your ass-backward parents, who just told you to fuck off because they couldn’t marry you off like they wanted you to. Either way, I’m not going into that room until I’m sure I won’t be prolonging his stay here. Are we clear?”

Nicky stared up at the numbers ticking down to their floor with a frown on his face, pointedly ignoring Aaron as Aaron had been ignoring him. Aaron hated the voice at the back of his head telling him just how alike he and Andrew really were, in that way.

“Nicky.”

“We’re clear,” Nicky said. The elevator doors opened, empty.

As the carriage moved, the tension between them stirred, thick and unwanted. Incapable of keeping his mouth shut, Nicky said, “Aaron.”

“What.”

“I wanted to tell you both that I’ll be staying to take you and Andrew in.”

The doors slid open at Andrew’s floor. Nicky stepped out first, and Aaron hesitated for a moment before he could follow. He couldn’t think, couldn’t comprehend what Nicky had just told him.

He didn’t get it. The moment the Minyards landed in Columbia, Nicky was already on a plane to Germany. Now that he was back, completely exiled from the Hemmick household, he was staying for good, all because his stupid estranged cousins were orphaned.

“Why?” It was the first genuinely curious question to drop out of Aaron’s mouth that day, and it relieved him to hear himself be himself, rather than be Andrew.

Nicky gave him a pitying look, the kind given to people who lacked things they deserved and unknowingly pointed it out for other people to pity, which didn’t grate as much on Aaron’s nerves as it would have if the look came from Maria or Luther. Simply, Nicky answered, “You’re family, Aaron.”

Aaron rolled his eyes, ignoring the way he couldn’t breathe right. “Sure, whatever. Wouldn’t want both of us orphaned after having Andrew under a roof with the both of them either.”

Nicky made a sound of disapproval, which wasn’t a sound Nicky Hemmick normally made, so it came out like an indignant squawk more than anything. “Would you stop that?”

Aaron looked at him, but said nothing.

Nicky groaned in frustration, mistaking his impassivity for confusion, but he didn’t aim his glare at Aaron. Aaron couldn’t comprehend that either. “Look, I’m still trying to wrap my head around what you just accused Andrew of a few minutes ago, but—”

“But what, Nicky?” Aaron snapped. “But we don’t know that? But Andrew didn’t really do it? No, _you_ don’t know that. I’m the one who lived with him, Nicky. He may not seem like much, but he’s a fucking lunatic!”

“And _you’re_ hurt,” Nicky returned, haughtily calm in the face of Aaron’s broken composure. “That the only logical turn in your head marks Andrew as a sociopathic murderer isn’t so weird. The part where you think he’s a murderer in a car _wreck_ is. But you have to remember that he didn’t grow up like you and me, and that you only met him two years ago.

“I’m not saying that I don’t believe you, and I’m not taking sides. If Andrew really did what you think he did, he has his reasons considering what Aunt Tilda did to both you _and_ him. But if he didn’t, you’re laying blame on the wrong person. And if you really do hate him that much, you wouldn’t be covering for him.”

They stopped in front of Andrew’s room. Nicky threw him a questioning look. Aaron bit his tongue and stood his ground, fists clenched from where he shoved them into his pockets.

Without questioning it, Nicky entered the room and didn’t stop even though Aaron didn’t follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, that was something. talk to me abt those somethings in the comments section!!! or in the tags of the [tumblr post](http://stubbornjerk.tumblr.com/post/154461733020)
> 
> y'all, i thought i was gonna catch up two days after but then school fucked me over (it won't do that anymore. not on my watch. CHRISTMAS BREAK CAN GO EAT AN EXY STICK)


	3. cheer down or fuck off

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: graphic descriptions of injuries, hate crimes, suicide attempts, and the usual unfairness of all thing surrounding Andrew Joseph Minyard's court case
> 
> the chapter title is taken from Jay Brannan's Greatest Hits. it's a good song, go check it out!

The smell of the hospital around him was comforting, but the sight of Nicky on a hospital bed—his brown skin pallid against the white sheets, gauzes wrapped around his arms, his swollen face a black and blue mess—was the least comforting sight in Aaron’s life after seeing his mother in a casket.

Nicky was awake, which meant that he was smiling. He was always smiling. Aaron wished he wouldn’t, not after what had just happened to him, and especially since he looked like _that_.

Nicky was only four years older than the twins but right then, he looked decades older than he was, exhausted and weary and quite literally beat-up. It seemed impossible that he would recover from this.

For a brief moment, Aaron wondered what it felt like to give up what was supposed to be your golden years for a pair of neurotic ingrates that just won’t quit because they were your _family_. He wondered how that could be motivation enough to drop your wedding plans, to wake up each and every morning knowing that you could be so far away from all _this_.

He supposed it would have been incredibly frustrating for Nicky, but Nicky was a fountain of patience where the Minyard twins were not. Aaron had to admit, it made him feel like a piece of shit.

He shook himself out of that train of thought. He wasn’t here for that.

“It’s Aaron,” he cleared, because he was sure Andrew was the last person Nicky wanted to see at the moment, never mind whatever protests he put up. He’d seen the state that Andrew was in at his holding cell; bloodied, bruised, and blank, and he made for quite a horrific sight. Aaron had seen himself like that so many times that he was used to it, but Aaron was not Nicky.

Nicky wasn’t used to justified acts of violence.

Sometimes, Aaron forgot he was a Christian.

Ever predictable, Nicky’s shoulders sagged a little in relief at Aaron’s reassurance, his smile turning just a tad more genuine. “Hey, I know a guy named Aaron. He’s my cousin,” he joked.

Aaron put important matters behind him for a moment and went along. “Your cousin must be a patient guy to have to put up with your fake bullshit. You’re in a hospital bed and you’re still making jokes.”

Nicky wheezed out a breath of what could have been a laugh, if it weren’t for the broken ribs and bruises on his stomach. Aaron had deciphered the chicken scratch that marked years in the field of medicine from the clipboard by the foot of Nicky’s bed earlier, and the damage was extensive, to say the least.

There was a moment of silence before Aaron sat down by Nicky’s side, head lowered.

(He may have been Aaron, but he still looked like Andrew.)

He heard what had happened from the witness reports, from Andrew himself too. A hate crime had been committed, and, under Andrew’s eyes, had been swiftly dealt with. The four dickheads that got themselves into the situation were suing Andrew now, for beating them within an inch of their lives, as if that wasn’t what they were thinking of doing to Nicky themselves.

“I bailed him out before I got here,” Aaron informed his cousin. Nicky shifted in his bed to face Aaron, but Aaron didn’t meet his eyes. “He’s at home right now, behaving. His trial’s just around November.”

“That’s one thing we can toast about on Thanksgiving, I guess. ‘I’m thankful that Andrew was tried as an adult’,” Nicky laughed weakly. Aaron looked at him, eyes landing at the edge of Nicky’s smile, aware that every inch of it was fake. “Where’d you get the money for bail?”

“There was still a few thousand left from the GS.”

Nicky’s smile melted off, and Aaron hated to see it go, though he’d turn blue before he could admit it aloud. “Aaron, that’s—”

“It’s none of your concern,” Aaron cut him off, sounding cold and dismissive. “You’ll be back in Germany by next November anyway.”

They’d discussed it in passing. At times, Nicky would take a long distance call, and he would sometimes hand the phone over to Aaron, even though he didn’t say a word against the current of accented English talking his ear off as good as Nicky did on a normal day. Erik Klose was a pleasant person, and Aaron saw why Nicky would want to be with someone like him.

The plan was that Nicky would foster the twins until they were legal. That meant that the Hemmicks couldn’t pull the obligation card and take them in ‘with the goodness of their hearts’, and it meant that they wouldn’t be able to cast Nicky in a more negative light by saying he didn’t finish what he started. When the twins finished high school, Nicky would head back into his boyfriend’s open arms and never look back.

Aaron wasn’t bitter about it any.

Nicky looked at him like he had every right to be. He was always like that, going on about what feelings were allowed and valid. The lot of them had gone through a whole lot of bad, he said once, when he had to pick Andrew and Aaron up from the principal’s office for getting into a fight. They could afford to be a little jaded and fucked up within their own reasons. They could afford to want things. They were just human.

“That was supposed to be your college fund, Aaron,” Nicky said with a small voice, as if a voice that small could somehow bring down the magnitude of what Aaron had done. He hadn’t just given Andrew an inch; he gave Andrew enough for a handhold.

He didn’t regret it. It wasn’t in his blood. Aaron was grateful for this one thing Andrew did, and a bail was enough to pay it back. His eyes flitted around the bed, noting every little thing from the way the sun filtered through the blinds to the way Nicky’s eyes were glassy with tears unshed.

Nicky was alive.

“You’re alive. It doesn’t matter. You’re going back to Germany next year.”

He sat quietly in his seat as he steadily ignored the concern growing in the pit of his stomach. The sobs that Nicky were letting out sounded heavy. He could pull a stitch if he cried too hard. Aaron clenched his fists on his lap and kept his mouth shut.

 

* * *

 

Aaron sighed in frustration when he realized he’d woken up because there was someone banging around in the kitchen just down the hall. Why he took the room on the first floor was still beyond him, even though it was a conscious decision.

He took a moment, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the house around him. It’s been the better part of the year now. He was seventeen, and it was almost Christmas break, and his mother was dead.

He got up from bed and padded down the hall, not bothering to get a shirt on. It was just him and Andrew in the house anyway, since Nicky was out at Eden’s Twilight until 2 AM, and no one in their right mind would be awake at…

He glanced at the clock positioned above the mantel by the living room as he passed. It was past midnight, and it was a Thursday.

Andrew had a cig propped between his lips as the coffeemaker gurgled on the counter. It was late enough for Andrew to have been sober and less infuriating than usual. Aaron took a seat by the dining room table, not bothering with a greeting. Instead, he thought about what had happened earlier, before Nicky had picked them up from school.

The sound of balls rebounding around him echoed in his head, as did the sound of the buzzer sounding behind him. The feeling of a shoulder shoving past him as familiar as it was painful. Kevin Day had come to recruit Andrew once more, this time with less fanfare and more sports journalists, this time to recruit him to the Ravens instead of whatever their Maryland team was, and this time, Aaron was there to witness it.

For the most part, Aaron was confident he knew a lot about Andrew Minyard more than anyone else. They’ve known about each other for about five years now, lived with each other for three, and barred all interaction unless needed to one, and he had the advantage of knowing his own habits when reflected by Andrew.

But Andrew was still largely a mystery to him. They weren’t exactly the sharing type. So Aaron didn’t know why Andrew refused the deal that could have shaped his future, and lied about wanting it. Aaron didn’t know why Andrew didn’t give Exy his best and just be done with it, especially since he didn’t seem to have any real motivation to think college was worth anything anyway.

What he _did_ know was that Andrew was lying to get himself out of an opportunity that could benefit himself. Aaron couldn’t wrap his head around that, but he was biased because Exy was never anything special to him either.

And, he thought, maybe he _was_ beginning to get why Andrew didn’t care. It should have been obvious to begin with.

Aaron watched as Andrew flicked ash onto the windowsill by the sink, already tuning out Nicky’s complaints about it later in the morning before he drove the twins to school. Andrew was a picture of composure, a window into another world, an Aaron who smoked and drank coffee at odd hours.

(On most days, he felt like he should be confused, having a crisis about whether he was real or not, just by the mere sight of Andrew looking so much like him.

He couldn’t. They were separate, each their own person. Though it was difficult to separate Andrew’s antisocial behavior from Aaron’s, they were still distinct.)

In their silence, the coffeemaker continued to gurgle, the analog clock on the wall down the hall clicking as seconds passed. He felt like he could hear a pin drop in this kind of silence.

Time kept passing.

“You should be asleep,” Aaron said in German, because they took the class together, because they had it in common with Nicky, because he needed practice. He and Andrew weren’t on speaking terms, not since Tilda, but it was worth a try. “You shouldn’t be awake when you’re sober. You’ll go through withdrawals.”

There were things that went unsaid.

Andrew’s withdrawals were hard to watch for Aaron. He knew what a high felt like, and crashing down from it, considering how high Andrew got from his prescription, was extremely lethal. An hour into sobering and Andrew would need to run off to throw up somewhere.

He’d done it once, probably not the first time he tried either.

Just last week, Andrew came to school without taking his prescription for the morning. Aaron correctly assumed that Andrew was testing his limits (or the drug’s limits, depending on how you looked at it). Aaron was quick to excuse the both of them from German to rush Andrew to the bathroom, noticing the violent trembling of his brother’s hands way before anyone else did.

He was not a fan of that. Neither was Andrew. They didn’t like being indebted to each other so in turn, Andrew bought him a bottle of scotch.

At the very least, Andrew hadn’t tried a stunt like the one he did days after his plea bargain landed him with the medication.

The pills made Andrew dependent on them. Andrew, who was naturally impassive and felt only one emotion at any given time (usually anger), was given pills that simulated happiness to the point that he could maim just about anyone and he would do it with a joyous little grin on his face. The withdrawals forced Andrew to take his pills.

The catch was that Andrew hated dependency.

So, days after the court accepted the plea bargain, on November 11th, Andrew locked himself in his room upstairs and took one too many pills.

The trip to the hospital was as grim as it was short. It was the second time Andrew landed at the hospital in the small amount of time Aaron had known him, but seeing his brother engulfed by white that time… Seeing Andrew asleep on a bed similar to the one Nicky had lain in only months ago reminded Aaron of how little time they held between their fingertips, and how some of them wanted it all gone at the blink of an eye.

It wasn’t the first time he’d seen Andrew without his armbands, but it was Nicky’s. Somehow, having his cousin there to see it casted everything in a weird light.

Aaron had known that Andrew was self-destructive; the cuts weren’t the only defining features of that trait. But the oldness of his scars—the wrongness of the sight of bumps and ridges of red purposefully placed there—went against everything Andrew was to Aaron up until recently: brother, sociopath, solid.

He wasn’t just self-destructive, he was suicidal. Andrew’s cleanliness, his refusal of the Ravens, and the impulse-buying of the GS made a whole lot of sense all of a sudden. The future didn’t matter to a man living on numbered days.

Anyway, overdosing meant Andrew was left off the drugs for a week. But, suicidal or not, the court didn’t let Andrew get away with it. They adjusted the bargain so that, if he were ever caught out sober or finding excuses to be again before the three-year mark, he’d end up in jail.

From then on, Nicky kept the pills in hand for his cousin, and only gave Andrew his doses during meals, which involved stuffing a pill in every lunch bag he made for Andrew.

Time continued to pass by, unconcerned for Aaron’s trip down memory lane.

Once done, Andrew poured his coffee into a mug that was half filled with sugar, creamer, and cold milk. He stirred his coffee, cigarette smoke and steam mixing in the air. Aaron laid his head on his arms on the dining table, feeling his eyes grow heavy.

Andrew finished his coffee in a few minutes and ran off to his own bedroom upstairs.

When Aaron got up from the table to check the fridge, see if he could eat something to abate his hunger until Nicky arrived, and found a mug of milk and sugar in the fridge. Save for brewed coffee, it was exactly how he made it in the morning.

He stood there, staring at the mug on the first shelf for so long, he didn’t even know how many seconds ticked by. It was a glimpse into the past that could have been. Andrew and he could have been close, could have been brothers, were it not for Tilda’s death, were it not for Andrew _perpetrating_ Tilda’s death. He took a deep breath and told himself he was fine before grabbing the mug—still room temperature, prepared recently—and slamming the fridge shut.

He poured in what remained of the coffee Andrew made and went to see if he could study any of his lessons in advance.

 

 

 

He hadn’t realized that he’d nodded off until he opened his eyes and heard a door clicking shut down the hall. As he squinted down at the blaring red 2:02 from the digital clock by his nightstand, he thought, _Why the fuck did Andrew brew decaf before bed?_

Willing to let the line of thought go in favor of a sleeping position that _didn’t_ give him a crick in the neck, he got up from his desk and slipped into bed to catch up on more sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if it's short, there are reasons!!!! talk to me abt this in the comments or in the tags of the [tumblr post](http://stubbornjerk.tumblr.com/post/154618162750)


	4. cliffs edge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> freshman year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: usage of queer slurs (just once, the f slur), there's also a brief panic attack scene, and struggles with moving on from drug addiction

Aaron squinted at the sad excuse of a stadium standing in the middle of Palmetto State University campus as they drove by.

For the nth time in the past few hours (days, even), he wondered why the fuck Andrew was agreeing to this. In the driver’s seat, Nicky said, “They should repaint the stadium. Or demolish it and build a new one. That one just looks sad.”

Grinning, Andrew said, “Good idea. You should volunteer.”

Nicky scoffed, waving a hand around dramatically, “Me, manual labor, and volunteering for it? Preposterous! You’d have better luck hooking me up with a girl.”

Nicky seemed to realize his mistake when Andrew made a considering hum from his seat beside Aaron. “Don’t try that.”

“It’s a lost cause anyway,” Aaron muttered.

Andrew laughed at that, loud and uninhibited, completely purposeful and sharp. He waved their files around in an expansive gesture that said _wait, let me just repeat what you just said so you could realize how stupid it sounded_ , and almost hit his brother in the face. Aaron resisted a flinch as Andrew came close to it. “Oh man, Aaron would know, wouldn’t he? Like knows like, that sort of thing.”

Before Aaron could think of a retort, Andrew abruptly slapped the seatback in front of him, effectively hitting the side of Nicky’s head. “Pull over, we’re here!”

Nicky stepped on the brakes, the sound of rubber screeching on the asphalt as loud as the long list of barely coherent expletives he let out. Aaron muttered a list of his own in English, hissing at the way the seatbelt dug into his abdomen. In his peripheral vision, Andrew didn’t even seem fazed by any of it, one hand fidgeting with the lock on the door.

“Andrew!” Nicky shouted, but Andrew had already wrenched the door open, jumped out, and slammed it close in one fell swoop, laughing joyously all the while. The streets were empty in the PSU campus, luckily, and Nicky didn’t have to explain the crazy blond midget that had just jumped out of his car.

Aaron hoped this place didn’t have street cameras.

“Good fucking God, he should really…” Nicky started, exasperated. Absent-mindedly, he rubbed at this cheek, glaring over where Andrew had disappeared into an alley as he parked the car by the curb. He didn’t continue that line of thought. There was no use.

 _No use_. It was so easy to give up on change when it came to Andrew. It was stupid to move when everything constricting you had consequences. That was what it felt like to try to make Andrew do something: one wrong move, or word, or request, and Andrew would take everything back or lash out or leave. Worse would come to worst.

Giving up was logical.

The captain had called them losers over that, over giving up easy. Aaron supposed Dan Wilds must have met her fair share of losers, most of them from her own team, to have known a flock of them on sight but he shouldn’t care about that anyway. What she thought of them wasn’t his problem, and should have continued being so, if Andrew hadn’t agreed to this in the first place.

Unable to keep his mouth shut for more than fifteen minutes, Nicky asked, “You think of what major you’ll be taking yet?”

Aaron made a face at that. Nicky looked at him over the rearview mirror, and laughed. “It’s okay if you haven’t. No rush, we’ve got a few weeks ahead of us before Wymack calls us up for summer training anyway.”

“I’ve already thought of a major. I just don’t think we should be doing this.”

Signing a five-year contract to the lowest-ranking team in the leagues was... It was…

It wasn’t that PSU’s credentials had Aaron worried, not much anyway. Sure, he didn’t want to be associated with a bunch of rejects like the Foxes, but as long as he didn’t get recognized as one of them, he could tolerate having to be on a team with them.  Plus, Andrew did a pretty good job of ruining his reputation just by being related to him so he supposed there was no harm in playing with a bunch of other rejects.

It was that…

It was that Nicky was supposed to be packing his bags for Germany by now.

It was that Aaron and Andrew should be packing to leave Nicky’s house. It didn’t matter what for or why or how. For Andrew to take up that auto-mechanic job he joked about so much, maybe. Or for Aaron to go off to college on his own. It didn’t matter. They just had to leave.

It was that they all had to part ways at some point, he had rationalized in his head, and what better time to start than now?

It was that Aaron had been hyping himself up for leaving Columbia for weeks now, losing sleep over the future. Andrew had taken to pointing out his exhaustion with obnoxious delight, joking about how, finally, they could be told apart from each other.

It was that acceptance letters should be coming in within the next week, and Aaron had earned enough by doing odd jobs and working at Eden’s Twilight to afford a dormitory.

It was that, after getting used to two years with Andrew and Nicky, he’d be walking free. It felt like a cliff edge inches from his feet, daring him to lean forward, warning him to back off.

It was that he didn’t know how to be alone, but that didn’t mean he wanted to prolong _this_.

“I’m thinking I could go for marketing, you know. It’s easy since I already did work on the system in Stuttgart, and there’s still that friend of Erik’s from the PR team. It would be convenient to finally know the bare bones of it,” Nicky cut in, taking Aaron’s silence as reluctance on continuing the subject.

Aaron huffed in his seat, somewhat relieved to have been taken out of his train of thought. “And land back to working a cash register somewhere?”

Nicky clucked at him, “Retail is one of the hardest professions out there, Aaron Michael, you should know better.”

Aaron shrugged, having nothing to add to that. Really, it’s not like he’d be going back to counter service while he was in college. For the most part, he thought he could keep his job at Eden’s up until he had enough to support himself, but that was the back-up plan _before_ Andrew agreed to PSU.

There was another lull in the conversation, comfortable this time. There was a question niggling at the back of Aaron’s head, and he was itching to ask it.

Seemed as good a time as any, he rationalized.

“Why even bother saying ‘yes’ to this?” Aaron muttered under his voice, half-hoping Nicky wouldn’t pick up on how seriously he’ll take the answer to it. If there was anything he hated more than Andrew’s fucked-up teasing, it was Nicky thinking he was soft.

Nicky took a deep breath by the front, paying no heed to his cousin’s insecurity. “Maybe I just want to see this whole thing through. You and Andrew have gotten so far and hey, you both got me a really sweet deal on the free education. What’s another five years together, right?”

Aaron paused at that, staring incredulously at his cousin’s profile.

He would never get what potential Nicky saw in his cousins.

In the past four years, Andrew and Aaron have done nothing but push Nicky to just move back to Germany. Aaron, because deep inside he believed that Nicky deserved the happiness he had with Erik, and Andrew for reasons unknown. All Nicky did was give them chance after chance after chance and Aaron thought, maybe _that_ was why he thought that agreeing to the Foxes for a flimsy promise of a second chance was such an idiotic idea.

Andrew was back in the car smelling of scotch and cigarette smoke five minutes later. If he noticed the tension between his brother and cousin, he didn’t seem to care, and if he did care, his attention barely held like this anyway. With the radio playing to ease their silence, they made the hour-long trip from PSU to Columbia without another word.

 

* * *

 

Aaron could tolerate Wednesdays.

Thing was, reality didn’t come crashing down at him on Wednesdays, like they did on most Mondays.

Wednesdays meant he was almost there, that it was just a few more days to push ‘til the weekend.

Wednesdays meant he only had two hours worth of classes, and had the rest of the day to himself.

Wednesdays were the days he’d slip into the GS for training in the morning, with Nicky in the driver’s seat talking about whatever it was he talked about; Andrew, only just dosed up for breakfast and only half-obnoxious, would take his seat beside Aaron in the back, silent as he was on most mornings. The GS would end up smelling like coffee for the rest of the ride to the court.

Wednesdays meant Nicky would drop Aaron off at the court and drive off for Reddin Medical Center with Andrew sitting shotgun for his weekly session with Betsy Dobson.

Wednesdays, in this idea, were a tolerable concept. Aaron might even go on and admit that he liked them.

Aaron slipped into the court, knowing full-well he could just slip his headphones in and shut the world out. Nicky, who knew him well enough, was the only one who knew Aaron only put them on to shut everyone out and wasn’t really listening to any music. But Nicky wasn’t here, and Aaron didn’t even like music. Everyone else on the team wouldn’t be able to think anything of it, and would most likely keep to themselves.

It’s not like they haven’t learned what kind of attitude Aaron would give them if they tried.

He picked his way into the locker room, not bothering with the shower stalls as he changed out of day clothes and into gym clothes. He ignored everyone whether or not he had headphones on. That included Juan, and Dwayne, and Reggie, and Damien, and Gordon.

As far as he knew, they were the ones to avoid.

Aaron had been sober since Nicky started living with him and Andrew, and Aaron could only take the edge off when they went to Eden’s for cracker dust, specifically because it was non-addictive. There was an active pack of addicts at Macon High too, once Aaron and Andrew got to start their senior year, and the pack didn’t have to have rough backgrounds to be addicts.

The thing was that he wasn’t in Macon High anymore. Athletes at PSU were required to live in the athlete dorms, colloquially known as the Tower, and since there were only eleven people on the Exy team, they could squeeze into three rooms, just on one floor. That, and the Foxes shared shitty lives in common, like they did their addictions.

Aaron didn’t have to see or speak with them every day, per se. It was barely even a month into the school year and league matches didn’t come until next week, so he barely even saw them outside the Tower. The girls on the team tended to be social animals, Walker especially, but they got the hint from the get-go that only Nicky was approachable. The boys usually either stayed in their dorms or got off the floor to hang out with other athlete junkies on other floors.

So, Aaron was pretty much safe on avoiding anyone with a drug addiction, past or present, save for his own brother.

The only other Fox Aaron had to unwillingly spend time with outside of that, apart from his cousin and brother, was Matt Boyd, and that was only because they shared the same Intro to Calc class that semester.

Aaron didn’t like Boyd, both by nature and by spite. Part of it was because he was petty about the height differences, and part of it was because the guy had track marks and he wasn’t ashamed about it.

One Thursday morning, Aaron had the displeasure of having to see Boyd in the lecture hall, like he did every Thursday morning. The difference, that time, was that Boyd didn’t wave in greeting, didn’t gather his things to sit next to Aaron near the front of the class, effectively bothering people with his height and inability to shut up.

That time, Boyd didn’t even seem to notice he was in Intro to Calc, much less that Aaron had just walked into it. Boyd’s gaze was distant and weary, haunted and hungry. He had always looked like that, on the brink of giving in, but it was worse than usual.

Aaron was too familiar with that look, and it was mostly the major reason why he didn’t like Boyd.

“You know Dan would talk to them for you, right?” Walker asked gently from where Boyd sat by the weight-lifting equipment. “All you need to do is ask, and I’m sure they’ll stop. Maybe Allison will have Gordon throw out the stronger stuff too.”

Aaron took great care not to look like he was listening in to their conversation, but he felt as if Walker had this talent of being disturbingly observant when she wanted to be.

From his peripheral vision, he saw Boyd give her a weak smile and shake his head. “They don’t need to, Renee. I’m okay.”

Walker didn’t respond, probably too polite to point out that he was blatantly lying. Aaron would have hit the guy upside the head before he even opened his mouth. Boyd had to live with the rest of the boys, and as a recovering drug addict, Aaron knew how hard that could be. He didn’t know to what extent the other guys took it, or what they took, but it couldn’t have been good if Boyd seemed to continue losing sleep about it.

Walker ran off as soon as the doors let in Reynolds and Gordon, effectively leaving Boyd and Aaron alone. Aaron continued to ignore them, upping the speed on the treadmill until he had to jog to keep up.

“I know you’re not listening to music, Aaron,” Boyd pointed out. “Nicky always says you hate music, so you probably heard all that.”

Aaron didn’t reply, spiteful enough to just keep the act up. He adjusted his breathing and focused on putting one foot in front of the other for as long as he could manage. If Boyd looked like an idiot speaking to him, that was his problem.

“I don’t mind that you heard any, you know. The guys and I go way back, but sometimes being around them is a bit too much. And like, Dan can’t always fight my battles for me either. The drugs are their crutch, and just because I’m out of the habit doesn’t mean they have to too. Coach lets them because he believes in them, and I wouldn’t put it past them that they still need it.”

Boyd was stupider than he thought. Aaron lived with Andrew everyday and even Andrew took great care not to drink his meds around Aaron. They definitely weren't on speaking terms, but they didn't push it further than that. Recovering from addiction, he knew from experience, wasn’t just getting off the habit. If Boyd wanted to recover fully, he’d do well to just live with the nurse or the coach, outside influences’ reach.

But Aaron wasn’t telling him any of that.

“Maybe you think that’s stupid,” Boyd surmised. So maybe the guy had some brain cells left to deduce that much. “But I don’t think I need the others to adjust so that I can live with myself.”

It was another thirty minutes of radio silence between them before Aaron turned down the speed, enough to keep to a slow pace. By then, Boyd had already gone back to lifting weights, thinking the conversation was over. The treadmill slowed to a stop and so did Aaron.

Aaron popped a headphone off, said, “You _don’t_ live with yourself, that’s why they need to adjust. Don’t talk to me,” and pushed past Boyd to get to the lighter weights by the other end of the room.

Not another word was spoken between them until the drills started.

 

* * *

 

Aaron never fared well with his temper.

The first two years of his high school career proved as much. The amount of time he spent inside guidance counseling and the principal’s office, waiting for the people in charge to realize that Tilda wasn’t going to come to school to pick him up for being suspended _again_ , spoke volumes of how little control he had over his fists and temper.

For the most part, this time he really should have heeded Nicky's warnings to not get involved with the asshole upperclassmen, but it was just too hard not to get provoked.

He was a Minyard, he convinced himself once. Minyards don't feel regret. It wasn't in their blood.

Well, maybe that meant he wasn't that much of a Minyard anymore. It was just a word now. His mother was gone, his life was gone, he wasn't a Minyard and he _regretted_.

He regretted ever opening the door to the boys' room on their floor, instead of just marching straight for the one he shared with Andrew and Nicky. In hindsight, he didn't even know what he was planning on doing if he did manage to catch the attention of the upperclassmen.

He just knew that he hated that they kept calling Nicky a faggot, because it reminded him of the swollen mess of Nicky's face that didn't fade until the two-week mark, it reminded him of Nicky flinching every time Aaron made an abrupt movement in front of him.

He was just planning to talk to them, honestly.

When he opened the door to the boys' dorms, he was greeted with the sight of drug paraphernalia, every single thing on the table as familiar as the blood running in his veins. Dwayne looked up, and Juan called out to him, probably telling him to shut the door. Gordon probably protested, probably shouted something idiotically obnoxious at him.

He wasn't listening.

Aaron slammed the door and leaned on it with shaking knees, shaking hands, every molecule in his body vibrating with the need to fall apart and scatter. He hoped to God (or any other deity) that the boys wouldn't open the door behind him. In front of him, the girls' dorm opened just a crack, then swung on its hinges.

Boyd stood in front of him, tall, dark, and concerned; so much like Nicky but so far from Nicky. But Aaron didn't care because he was too busy trying to stop the shaking, trying to catch his breath.

He needed to get back to his dorm where it was safe; he needed to get back before Andrew got suspicious. But first he needed to stop the shaking, because Andrew would know if he didn't stop, and Andrew would get angry and disappointed, and he’d smile and laugh because he worked so hard on getting Aaron sober only for him have a breakdown now.

Aaron was too shaken up to convince himself that he didn’t care about Andrew’s approval.

"Aaron," Boyd said cautiously, and Aaron didn't move. He didn't breathe. He felt like, if he inhaled just a bit of the air wafting outside the cracks of the boys' room, he'll barge in there and take a hit, just one, one too many from before. His hands shook and he hated it.

"Aaron," Boyd tried again, and Aaron took deep breaths, feeling stillness slowly try to take him in, finally cooperating.

This was stupid. He didn't need it.

Feeling numb, he stumbled towards the dorm room he shared with Andrew and Nicky. He wanted to be safe, he wanted to forget. He wanted a hit, and it was fucking stupid because he shouldn't need a hit.

"Aaron," Boyd called out again, and Aaron snapped.

"I thought I told you not to fucking talk to me, Boyd," he growled.

Boyd was stupid, so fucking stupid. He should have had Wilds talk to the boys and stopped hiding his tail behind his legs. He should have had Wilds stop this already.

Boyd didn’t flinch, but he did take a step back, and Aaron felt like he could breathe again. "I'm sorry," he mumbled under his breath, and didn’t tell Aaron to stop when he reached the door.

Aaron slammed the door behind him, when he entered the dorm. Nicky didn't pay him any mind, and Andrew wasn't in the room to give a fuck (not that he would if he were there).

Aaron preferred it that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments are appreciated! you can also do the tag thing on the [tumblr post](http://stubbornjerk.tumblr.com/post/154788586025)


	5. don't wake me I'm not dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katelyn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from BØRNS's Past Lives. it's a lovely song, go check it out!

It took Aaron a whole month before he could convince himself to head out alone. It took about a week of holing up at the court, on Coach’s orders, before the rest could relent on what had happened with Matt, but Aaron honestly couldn’t care less about that, even if he tried. He was still fumbling for ground after Andrew decided he wanted to test Matt’s limits, and then decided to get on Renee Walker’s good side.

The Wednesday before Thanksgiving, Aaron holed himself up at the campus library.

Andrew and Nicky had taken a quick trip to Columbia to check up on the house that day, since all three of them only had two classes on Wednesdays. Apparently, the neighborhood watch had alerted Nicky that there was someone suspicious knocking on doors at night, and they asked, _Maybe, you wanna check out if there’s anything wrong with the house? It’ll only take a few minutes to check_.

Aaron argued that he had to head for the library to finish a few essays and cram. Nicky had called him a nerd, but ultimately left him at it. Andrew, on the other hand, should have been doing the same, judging by the sheer number of people Aaron recognized from Andrew’s classes peering through the Politics section, but Andrew often passed projects and quizzes and exams without giving into stress when they were in high school, probably due to his eidetic memory coming in handy, and he was also stupidly protective of his GS even though he was too high to drive it otherwise, so Aaron decided not to ask.

Aaron pushed those thoughts away and fished his journal out of his bag to see if he could find some references to a few of his lessons.

He stumbled into where they hid the Chemistry books with the Physics books. He couldn’t really complain about it, being a freshman, but Chemistry and Physics was as far off from each other as Astronomy was to Marine Biology.

Who would have thought something as simple as misplaced genre could piss him off so early in the afternoon?

“Oh, that’s so stupid. Who puts Chem up with Physics? I swear…” Someone muttered beside him.

Aaron looked up from where he was inspecting the spines for the book he was looking for, and stepped back a little. For one thing, he hadn’t expected the proximity of the person next to him. For another, he hadn’t expected how tall they were.

It was a Vixen, someone from the Foxes’ cheerleading squad. Aaron didn’t have Andrew’s eidetic memory, but he knew how to familiarize a face in the crowd. He certainly wouldn’t forget someone… never mind.

The Vixen paused in her search and looked at Aaron, pushing her glasses up her nose. They blinked at each other for a few seconds before Aaron broke eye contact and went back to his search.

“You’re the new backliner, right? On the Exy team? Or was that your twin…” The Vixen asked, as though she thought that eye contact inspired conversation. Aaron didn’t respond, grabbing the textbook he needed, and paused to see if he would need another. Definitely not to see if she would be able to name him right.

“Wait, no, Marissa told me the goalie was a Criminal Justice major, so you’re _definitely_ the backliner since Alice told me that Criminal Justice frosh don’t have Chem or Physics this sem. Aaron, wasn’t it? Number five?”

Aaron turned to look up at her again, brow raised.

She beamed back, taking his reaction as approval. Aaron refused to let himself react further than that. He refused to smile. She thrust her hand out for a shake. “We’ve never been formally introduced. I’m a freshman too, I’m with the Vixens. I only know Dan, Renee, Matt, and Allison from the Exy team so far. I’m Katelyn. Miller. Katelyn Miller.” She laughed softly at her own stutters, but didn’t back off when Aaron didn’t react any.

Aaron didn’t know why he didn’t just shoulder past her and get it over with so he could start on his essay, but he shifted the book from his left hand to his right, and shook her hand. Standing at this distance, he could smell just how strong her lotion was. “Aaron Minyard,” he returned.

Katelyn nodded, her curls bouncing along behind her in a ponytail. She let go of his hand and didn’t make it seem like she wanted him to let go the moment she spotted him, like most people did. “Right. Well, it was nice meeting you, Aaron!”

That was a first. For most people, it was never nice meeting a Minyard. The upperclassmen would definitely attest to that.

Aaron gave her a nod, the most he could do without opening his mouth and making her dislike him purely by virtue, then shouldered past her. It was what he should have done to begin with anyway.

No friends, he repeated to himself. No friends for _five more years_. That included girlfriends.

 _Fuck,_ he really should have run off and burned that contract the moment he saw Andrew even think about signing it.

He found a table and slid down the seat as silently as he could, feeling tired already.

God, why did he even agree to renew their deal in the first place? It wasn’t like he was going to actively make friends since he was already used to just being with his family, and it wasn’t like Andrew had anything to gain with the deal this time because he already had Nicky and, from Aaron could see happening, that other goalkeeper, Walker.

Why the fuck was he even questioning this _now_ when it was already done? Because he saw Katelyn and he was interested?

 _Get your shit together, Aaron, she’s just another girl. Nothing will happen, and it should stay that way until you graduate. You’re here to get a degree, not a girlfriend_.

The seat in front of him slid out from where his feet were tucked into the two front legs. He started, and looked up to see Katelyn, again. The light filtering from the tall windows, her posture, and Aaron’s position in the chair made it seem like she had a halo around her brown hair.

“Oh, should have asked,” Katelyn muttered under her breath, completely unaware of how easily she had taken Aaron’s away just by being. She let go of the seat and smiled at Aaron again.

“Sorry. Hey again, um, if you wouldn’t mind, you kind of grabbed the book I was gonna grab for research? So, is it okay if we…” She gestured between the two of them awkwardly, and Aaron would have been endeared if he wasn’t already half-dreading, half-excited for the next few hours he’d have to spend with Katelyn just so he could finish this fucking essay.

Aaron sat up properly, and slid the book across the table, keeping his eyes on the table. Katelyn took the seat across from him, thanking him under her breath.

They didn’t talk much after that. Aaron managed to finish his draft an hour in. If he stayed for a few more minutes after, no one could blame much on him, and if he let Katelyn nudge her foot against his for a few of those minutes, well…

Wednesdays just became Aaron’s favorite day of the week.

* * *

 

He was flipping through his journal as he walked, trying to absorb information despite the warmth seeping into every joint of his body—they had done the same drill five times that day and Aaron was willing to pin it all on Kevin. He was reviewing on the quiz on the fly, when someone nudged his shoulder from behind.

He didn’t stop to look who it was, not really caring to find out. Chem started in ten minutes, but he preferred to have a seat by the front, so he had to come early to be able to see anything at all.

The person seemed insistent on catching his attention though. Aaron could feel the presence of a hand about to clamp down his shoulder, so he stopped mid-step and turned around to look at them.

Katelyn muttered an apology when she stepped on the back of his foot because of the abrupt stop. She looked smaller in her knitted sweater and leggings, no doubt dressed for the season. Halloween was soon and she had a pretty practical fashion choice for a Vixen. She smiled, her eyes squinting a little when she did. “Hey, Aaron, I finally bumped into you!”

She did, Aaron thought. Twice.

“Hi, Katelyn.”

“It’s been so long! I tried asking around from Matt and Dan for your number to talk to you over the break but they were… well, they said I could definitely do better,” she explained, sounding a bit guilty though Aaron didn’t know why. They barely spoke at the library and though he did thought of her in passing, it never came to him that she’d want to talk more. Honestly, she should heed the upperclassmen’s warning and just forget about him before it was too late.

“But that’s beside the point. They didn’t even give me the chance to get to know you for myself,” she continued, “I mean, that and I’ve been trying to get your attention for the past few minutes anyway. Man, I’d have thought you could tune out a nuclear bomb until you reached your lecture hall!”

Aaron shrugged. “I have practice.” Katelyn laughed like he just made a joke but he hoped she didn’t think so. Most of the time, he had to tune Nicky out whenever he tried to chat him into putting off his studies. Recently, he had Boyd to tune out too, along with Kevin’s demands, and Andrew’s incessant, drugged tirades, and Gordon’s angry shouts across the court. It was a bit bothersome that he had to adjust but, as was his mantra as of recent, he didn’t have much of a choice.

He continued his trek towards Chem, not bothering to ask if she knew he was heading there. She would explain herself, probably. She should have a point before she ever thought of approaching him. That was usually how it went. That was how it went in high school, and that was how it went now.

Somewhere in the middle of staring down at his notes, he realized he was distracted again. He took a deep breath to tell himself that it was okay to get an average grade as long as he didn’t fail. He knew enough to get by, even if the prof tried something imaginative for once.

“You know,” Katelyn started. Aaron tried not to be rude, but he tried not to talk to her at all. He was already risking so much by just walking with her. “When you were doing that essay for Chem last time, I thought you were an irregular doing it for extra credit. Just my luck when I looked at the roster this morning and saw Minyard under Miller. Guess we have chemistry, huh?”

Aaron stumbled a bit, lowering his journal. He looked up at Katelyn and asked, “You’re a Biochem major?”

Katelyn gave him a wry look from over her glasses. The effect made it all the more convincing. “Alright, we’re just gonna ignore that then. So what, just ‘cause I’m a cheerleader I can’t be a doctor?”

Aaron didn’t respond to that. That wasn’t what he meant, and he didn’t want to prolong this conversation all that much anyway. And yes, he was ignoring the obvious pick-up line. He was _not_ going to start in on any of that.

“Okay so, I was aiming for an MD-PhD, but fuck if I could ever endure 7 to 8 years of school,” she continued, shrugging off Aaron’s blunt silences. “It’d be great if I land a Ph-D though, I’m alright with that. I’ll settle. Student loans are going to kill me otherwise. You’re lucky you’re on that athletic scholarship ride.”

Aaron opened his mouth to say something, but cut himself off when someone shouldered past him and Katelyn. Aaron glared at the idiot as he walked past. He turned his attention back to Katelyn, who seemed bemused, to say the least.

He asked, “Don’t they give out full scholarships here?”

Katelyn laughed. “Fat chance. PSU’s more focused on athletics and academics. Your best bet’s MUSC, that’s where _I’m_ going. PhD for pediatric surgery, I’m going for it.” She held a hand out and clenched it into a fist, determined that she’ll get it.

Aaron failed to resist a grin this time, seeing the way Katelyn glared at middle distance as if she could see her PhD just floating in front of her. He forced it off as soon as he noticed.

They stopped in front of the lecture hall, unsure if they should just part ways like they weren’t having a conversation on the way there. Aaron hoped Katelyn decided for him, and quick, because he wanted to get a little bit of reviewing settled before Chem started.

“Is it cool if I sit with you?” Katelyn asked, following him down the aisle anyway. It was like she knew Aaron wasn’t going to say no to that.

Predictably, Aaron shrugged, scouring the seats and breathing a sigh of relief when he saw that his favorite seat was free, and so was the one next to it.

She let him slide into the seat, taking the aisle seat. Aaron didn’t notice at first, but she took the seat that had the view blocked, if you were someone as small as Aaron. He tried not to let on that he noticed, settling in.

“So, what are _your_ plans?” Katelyn asked nonchalantly.

Aaron took a deep breath. He’d never told anyone what his plans were after college, not even Nicky and Andrew. He didn’t really have anything to lose, telling Katelyn. It wasn’t like she had enough people who cared to give his plans out to.

“PhD. For neurosurgery.”

Katelyn made a considering sound. “Straight for the jugular, huh? Or should I say, straight for the head?”

Aaron gave her a dry look.

She laughed softly, but if it was at her own joke or his reaction to it, he didn’t know. Then, abruptly, she stopped.

Aaron glanced up at her, and she glanced down at Aaron’s notes. Her smile was gone, and was now replaced with confusion. “Wait. Do we have a quiz today or something?”

“Yeah.”

“ _Fuck_ , Aaron, why didn’t you tell me, oh my god? I’ve been here talking your ear off and you were—holy shit.”

Unbelievably, that made Aaron laugh, and it was enough to set Katelyn off laughing too.

Somehow, that pretty much made Aaron’s freshman year. 

* * *

 

Letting Katelyn in was like counting down the seconds before you succumbed to anesthesia. The anesthesiologist told you to count down like they hadn't done enough tests on the dosage, and you still counted down, but somehow, you still anticipated something to go wrong before the expected happens and you pass out before you get to count to one.

She was nice to Aaron. No one ever was, apart from Nicky, and if that wasn't really what took it, it was pretty much everything else.

After that second time they met at Chem, Aaron decided to let her in, though the whole time, he convinced himself that she wasn’t getting in past skin-deep aesthetic attraction.

Wednesdays were days he’d reserved for her exclusively.

Once, they walked around the whole campus as the wide-eyed freshmen they were: explored hidden rooms and floors at the library. They lost so much time in there that they had to reserve the other parts for other days, just to adjust for the fact that they always lingered while they talked.

On another Wednesday, they went looking around the various quads and living areas around campus. They pointed out sororities and fraternities they would have joined, if they had the patience for it.

Another Wednesday entailed riding on what was supposed to look like a cable car (that was really just a tour van reserved for parents) around the campus while Katelyn leaned out the vehicle and waved at people to see if she could get them to wave back.

During these Wednesdays, they talked about little nothings. Things they liked to do and things that peeved them, study habits and the sports they played growing up. They talked about part-time jobs that they took before college, and Aaron completely ignored the fact that this was the complete opposite of wanting to keep his attraction to Katelyn skin-deep.

One Wednesday, the first one of their second year, they walked out of Chem to the strip of restaurants, diners, and pizza parlors, a location strategically placed near the court. That morning, Aaron hadn’t had much of an appetite, and practice entailed less of Gordon and Kevin shouting at each other and more at Neil so he hadn’t been too hungry when they got there. Katelyn didn’t seem to mind to put lunch on hold, interested in recounting her little sisters’ exploits over the summer.

It was afternoon by the time Aaron felt like hunger was getting too annoying to ignore, so they treated each other with burgers and fro-yos, too stubborn to let the other spend their money.

While waiting for their orders at the diner a few blocks away from the Tower, spending money in hand, Aaron muttered under his breath, "This is absolutely fucking ridiculous."

Katelyn replied, "Well, what's so wrong with that? We wouldn't be in this situation if you'd just let me treat you."

Aaron made a face at that, "I'm not letting you buy me a meal."

Katelyn scoffed, "There's a difference between treating you for lunch and buying you a meal. I worked over the break, Aaron Michael, I know what I’m about to spend and what I don’t need repayment for."

Aaron rolled his eyes, and Katelyn mockingly mimicked him, but they were both smiling when they did it so it probably didn't matter.

He didn’t know what got into him, but he gave her his number afterwards, and she gave him hers in return.

Aaron refused to call it a date. A text at the dining hall later that evening told him that Katelyn clearly thought otherwise, but he didn’t bother correcting her.

It takes a few more Wednesdays but he could eventually feel his resolve shaking on that decision, and that was enough because a Minyard was nothing if not stubborn.

They completely ditched the library and took a bus to the nearest mall, despite Wymack’s warnings to keep inside the campus due to rabid Ravens fans and/or messy yakuza frame-ups. Aaron knew enough about how the situation was framed, how Riko fixated mostly on the people Kevin considered to be his anchors to Palmetto State, so he thought it was probably no big deal since he was neither Andrew nor Neil.

Chem had let out early, and they were both completely vacant, considering their profs didn’t give them anything better to do. It was a Wednesday, of course they wouldn’t.

Aaron ignored the itch under his skin that reminded him that Nicky thought he was at the library, that Andrew had received a long-distance call from Pig Higgins just yesterday morning, that everyone knew about his past now, probably, because Nicky couldn’t keep his mouth shut about it.

Instead, he focused on the fact that Katelyn couldn’t stop laughing in the darkness of the theater as Aaron mocked the plotline of the shitty movie Katelyn picked at random.

He focused on the little nudges and fist bumps they gave each other as they won enough on the whack-a-mole machine to win an eraser each.

He focused on how close she sat next to him when she shoved him into the photo booth and jostled him enough to get him to smile on camera. It was another thing to keep in the hidden pocket of his wallet, another burden of sentiment.

He focused on the fact that she didn’t question it when he said he had to be back on campus before sunset.

He focused on the fact that she napped on his shoulder a bit on the bus back, slipping down the seat a little to make laying on his shoulder comfortable with the inch difference in height.

He focused on the fact that he had fun, for the first time in a long time, and it felt like he could finally breathe, and it felt like he knew it was coming all along.

He focused on the fact that, when they got off at the bus stop, Katelyn had enough tact to ask him, “Can I kiss you?” and he still thought about it even though this wasn’t supposed to be happening but it was happening anyway.

He focused on the fact that he was halfway to saying _yes_ before Katelyn pressed their lips together, and it felt like everything inched back towards the left from when it had shifted to the right the moment Andrew came into his life. It was a split-second difference from hazy images to perfect clarity.

That one, Aaron called a date. He let Katelyn know in a text later, and all she sent him was a heart emoji.

And if Nicky told him he smelled like a girl later in the evening, he wasn’t even going to deny it, even if Andrew heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, frens!! i didn't get to catch up on my queue this week since it was christmas and i had to get dragged off to the countryside to meet with extended family, so i'm taking the next week off and won't be updating until January 3rd! i hope y'all can wait that long! again, comments are appreciated, and the tumblr post would be [here](http://stubbornjerk.tumblr.com/post/154974839560).
> 
> happy holidays!


	6. missing a half

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> before and after the dinner at the Hemmicks', including a Christmas in New York

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little content warning: there are little mentions of what happened with drake (nothing too graphic, but there is mentions of blood), and also some recreational drug use

Aaron leaned against a wall for a second, never mind how it stuck his shirt to him like second skin or how sticky the floor felt beneath his feet. His breaths came in heavy, and the bass rumbled so loudly in his ears he was convinced that it was controlling the pounding of his heart.

Nights at Eden’s Twilight were always like this: wild and high and light and dark at the same time, like how you knew that the TV was on even if the screen was nothing but darkness. It was Andrew buying the GS and driving over speed limits with the windows down as they drove down the freeway. It was running to tackle a striker that had taken possession of the ball. It was letting Katelyn kiss him and ignoring the rest of the world as it passed by.

Or maybe that was the dust talking, pulling him higher and higher into the air until all he could see was Technicolor lights and hands reaching up for more.

Tonight, it was wilder than every other Friday the cousins went; never mind that it wasn’t just the cousins tonight. Tonight, no one went as themselves, dressed in costumes so far out that Aaron, in his state, felt like he was in a midpoint between universes, out of place and out of sight. He had read somewhere, he’d forgotten where, that Halloween was when the doors to all worlds opened up, when the monsters started snatching up mortals who looked like mortals, so the mortals disguised themselves as monsters too.

At the moment, it felt significant, to be here amongst monsters and astronauts and aliens and neon baseball gloves; odd costumes and colorful drinks, and fake cobwebs strewn through different parts of the balcony and dance floor.

Halloweens were always so wild at Eden’s.

 

He’d been so caught in the height of the party that he almost forgot who he was here with. Of course, how could he?

As soon as he felt his high leave him hanging in confusion, he stumbled back up the stairs to the balcony for another packet of dust, but stopped short at the sight that greeted him at their tables.

Neil Josten leaned over the edge, the plastic arrow that ran through his cowboy hat glistening under strobe lights, his silhouette a solitary figure from where he stood beside the tables they’d reserved. It seemed that Andrew and Kevin went to retrieve more alcohol (or maybe it was only Kevin, because from where Aaron stood, the bar seemed to be lacking Roland).

Aaron hung back, observing from afar. His desire for a high ran out the moment he’d laid eyes on the walking lie they started calling a teammate.

He didn’t get what Andrew or any of the others saw in the guy. For one, Andrew couldn’t have been dumb enough to let a guy in for his looks, and Josten didn’t really have a stunning personality so it probably wasn’t some misguided attraction that wrangled Josten into their lot.

Plus, Andrew wasn’t the type to be so frivolous as to let someone in for their looks, so no, Josten definitely wasn’t anyone special. If Aaron were to look back on all the things he’d seen Andrew say and do to Neil in the past year, he’d even think that his brother was being hard on the guy.

(But, not without reason. He _did_ cost them Seth, after all, and one for the body count was enough for Andrew.)

So why let him take favors so easily?

Four years and Aaron had nothing on his brother but a few miniscule facts about him that probably even _Renee_ knew now, and now this asshole Josten—this total fucking stranger—barges in and, in six months’ time, manages to get Andrew to agree on bringing all the other Foxes to Eden’s Twilight. It was less of Josten bargaining to bring in a group of people Aaron wasn't allowed to associate with on a good day, though that was a big contributor to Aaron's anger. No, it was more that Andrew was an immovable force, now giving this  _total stranger_ inches to grab onto, and Aaron didn't fucking get it.

It was irrational to be this angry about something so small. Aaron should know that Andrew knew what he was doing, and just because his brother played a losing hand on a game with Josten, didn’t mean he was uprooting everything Aaron had to get used to for the four years they’d known each other. Aaron remembered what had happened at the costume shop, and all the things that had happened after. This was all clearly just a joke to Andrew, he knew. Neil was playing at something and Andrew was taking all the tactics that Josten was pulling and telling him that it wouldn’t work any.

Besides, if anyone was changing things up between twins, it was more likely Aaron, who’d been given but one rule: to stay away from anyone and not to get too chummy. Still, every Wednesday and game day, he’d let Katelyn flirt with him and get close to him like he wasn’t breaking any deals.

Aaron started as someone called out to him. A hand at his elbow, calloused and manicured, told him that it was Renee.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, a smile on her face. Aaron scowled, not at her, but at everything. He didn’t really care what she thought he was scowling at.

He shrugged her off and trudged towards their tables. Kevin shoved people off to let Andrew carry the tray to their table. Aaron grabbed a random glass as soon as the tray was on the table, and downed it as fast as he could, without looking to check Andrew, knowing that he would be ruffled up in that _just made out_  kind of way. Aaron was aware that Renee and Neil were watching him as he did all of this.

He didn’t care.

* * *

It had been days, weeks even, since Aaron had gotten a full night’s sleep.

For the most part, it wasn’t entirely a conscious decision for him to stay up. He’d taken to staying with Katelyn now, taking comfort in her warmth and presence. Apart from Nicky, who he couldn’t talk to or face at the moment after what had happened at Columbia, Katelyn was the last good thing he had left. She’d been gracious enough to keep him company, to let him stay over whenever he could, never pushing for more than just kisses and soft touches, never any clothes off.

(They had had a long discussion about this, mostly brought up by Aaron. He had enough tact to not go straight for the jugular, as Katelyn would put it.

“Eventually, you know, if you and me… if _this_ lasts long enough,” Aaron started. Katelyn’s hand was in his own from across the table. They were at the diner they had their first date in when he’d brought it up. “If you can manage with me that much, I just want to tell you that I’m asexual. Probably.”

Katelyn’s hand had barely twitched in his. He couldn’t look up at her. He had never said it out loud before, but it was glaringly obvious that sexual activity just wasn’t something Aaron could want. Every time Nicky or any of the other Foxes made a lewd joke, he could only scrunch his nose up in disgust to mask the fact that he was a bit uncomfortable with being unable to relate.

He was beginning to wonder how Katelyn would react. He hadn’t wanted to push her away, and he hadn’t known that this would last as long as it had, especially in Andrew’s absence, under Neil’s careless but calculating protection.

“Oh, that’s fine,” Katelyn said from across the table. “I’m glad you told me, in case I did get ahead of myself. You know, I’ve never been known for jumping on the people I like, but there was this one time I came on too strong. Yeah, she and I didn’t last a week. I felt too awful to have it continue, you know?”

Aaron blinked, stunned. He hadn’t known how to react to _that_.

Katelyn laughed, and like planets in orbit, his eyes gravitated to hers, and it was alright.

She didn’t mind.)

Katelyn’s presence had been calming, as of recent, comforting; she brought him out of his memories and into the best version of himself: free of shackled promises and guilty responsibility. Surrounded by the sharp scent of the detergent she used on her sheets against the soft contrast of her lotion, Aaron was as safe as he could possibly be, beside her, because she could never have hurt him like this.

“Babe, hey,” Katelyn whispered. Aaron turned his head to slant a look at her silhouette.

Neither of them was asleep, both laying on their backs, shoulder to shoulder on Katelyn’s queen-sized bed.  Aaron almost felt sorry for having to keep her up with him after countless nightmares full of laughter and bones cracking and blood spattering, but he needed her with him too much for him to bear parting with her.

He hadn’t noticed when that had happened, when he started leaning on her like she wasn’t just some passing fad, a rebellious streak against his brother.

His brother. _Andrew_.

“Aaron, babe, talk to me,” Katelyn whispered again. Aaron could see her lips move in the dark.

Aaron’s throat felt tight. He needed a distraction but all he could think of was Josten frozen by the door of the guest room at the Hemmicks’, looking ready to throw up or cry, his jaw slack from the sight. All he could hear was laughter—Andrew’s manic, drugged up laughter—an endless amount of it masking the pounding of blood in Aaron’s ears. All he could see was Andrew clutching at the headboards, blood everywhere, white-knuckled grip by the headboard as Drake—

“We were playing Twister when you called from the precinct, you know,” Katelyn cut his thoughts off abruptly. Her voice was loud in the silent room, with both of her roommates out for the holiday. It would only be a few more weeks now, before Andrew would be released from Easthaven. Aaron didn’t think he could stand being cooped up in Abby’s house with no one else but Nicky, Neil, and Kevin for winter break.

“It’s a bit sad that Anna couldn’t play with. She says she’s still sore from giving birth but, between you and me, I’m pretty sure that’s bullshit. Anyway. My younger sister was trying to get under my shoulder when the phone rang, but we were all twisted up so I couldn’t get up quickly enough. It’s the point of the game, you see.”

“I’m familiar with Twister,” Aaron intervened. And before Katelyn could insert another comment in there, he continued. “I can go sleep at my dorm.”

The bed shifted as Katelyn turned to fully face him. It was dark, and he couldn’t see her apart from her silhouette, but there was frown in her voice when she said, “You just got up from a nightmare. You’re not sleeping anywhere.”

Aaron snorted, “I can deal with a fucking nightmare, Kaye.”

“Wanna bet?” Katelyn asked, a hard edge to her voice. She would, Aaron thought. She would bring up a lot of things that had happened during previous nights, much like Andrew did in most conversations. She would bring it all up, not to hurt him, but to convince him to stay.

Aaron sighed. The analog clock propped up on the desk somewhere _ticked, ticked_ and _ticked_ , reminding him of the one in Nicky’s house; reminding him of that one night Andrew fixed him a cup of decaf; reminding him of Nicky’s horrible off-tune voice floating around the first floor from where it was coming from the bathroom.

He missed his family. He missed the simple days when Nicky would cook them food, when Neil and Kevin weren’t complicating shit with their connection to the fucking yakuza, when the dinner at the Hemmicks had never happened.

(He hadn’t noticed when _family_ had shifted Tilda out of the view. He’d lived with Andrew and Nicky for four years now and he hadn’t noticed when that had happened. He hadn’t noticed when he’d gone from wistful optimism to open antagonism to fucked-up protectiveness when it came to Andrew. He hadn’t noticed and somehow, it didn’t bug him that much.)

“Talk to me,” Katelyn said.

He did. “I don’t get him, Kaye. I don’t get Andrew. He’s my twin and I never grew up with him, and I know when he’s lying or mad or happy, but I don’t fucking _get_ him.”

Katelyn stayed silent that time, but if it was because she was surprised, had nothing to say, or was encouraging him to keep talking, he didn’t know. He couldn’t make out her features in the dark, couldn’t see if she had anything to say about that, especially after having told her a few days ago about what Andrew had done to his high school exes. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to know how she’d react.

He couldn’t take her leaving him too.

His memories began reeling forward, away from blood and laughter, towards the moment he went back to their house at Columbia, to Josten confronting him about what decisions Andrew had shaped around and for Aaron, and what it meant to have done the same for his twin.

Aaron didn’t care if Andrew hated him, he could admit that much. Andrew deserved better than foster care, than living with the Spears despite having to live with that piece of shit Drake. Andrew deserved worse for having known Aaron, for swapping places with him and getting hit in place of him, for orchestrating what was probably the most spotless murder in the history of murders set up by deranged teenagers.

Andrew deserved better and deserved worse and it was all contradiction over contradiction over contradiction and Aaron fucking hated it.

“I don’t think you have to,” Katelyn whispered into the dark between them, and it was true and it wasn’t all at the same confusing time.

 _I still probably do_ , Aaron didn’t say. _He deserves that much_. 

* * *

Aaron had driven a car only once in the past decade. That once being a few years back, in Columbia with Nicky and Andrew.

See, if every superhero had their origin story, then so did every single one of Andrew's many _-isms_. This was the story of why Andrew didn’t let anyone but Nicky drive the GS:

The GS was Andrew's consolation prize, Aaron knew. If what Josten had told him had any truth behind it, then that meant that Andrew had also been expecting everything to be fine eventually, when he killed Tilda.

But that wasn't what happened. Instead, Aaron ignored him on most days, and openly antagonized him on the others. Nicky had had enough of it one night, about two months into living with them.

“I don’t care what you do,” Nicky snapped. “Just, make it happen soon so that _this_ , this thing between the two of you, stops in tolerable enough intervals because you are _both_ driving me nuts.”

So, Andrew bought the GS.

Like, he just came home with it all of a sudden, a few days before Christmas on the same year Tilda died. At the time, Nicky actually claimed it was one of the patrons at Eden's, coming to get him after a one night stand. Aaron scoffed, then choked on his own spit when Andrew got out from the driver’s seat with the keys in one hand and a bag full of gas containers in the other.

Nicky had fawned over it for a few minutes before he went into a rage, as Andrew revealed where he'd gotten the money for it. That was meant to be their college funds, Nicky had explained gently, not letting on the fact that he was mad, but the twins were too observant to not catch his drift. Andrew placated him a little when he said there was enough left for Aaron, enough to last his twin even a dropout or a shift in courses, but Nicky didn't let it go for weeks.

Neither did Aaron.

See, Aaron knew how to drive. He'd learned in Oakland, when one of his friends from the rich neighborhood snatched one of their dad's cars for the weekend and drove them off to a field, where they taught themselves manually and drove donuts around the sand until sunset. It was the last year Aaron spent in Oakland, and all teens present were responsible enough to bring an adult with questionable enough morals to watch over them from the passenger side seat.

It was, oddly, one of the best days of Aaron's short life as an only child.

So, in an open show of antipathy to show Andrew what _he_ thought of him shuffling around and buying a car on impulse _with Tilda’s health insurance_ , Aaron snatched Andrew's keys and drove off in the middle of the night.

Much like what he was doing right now.

Aaron hadn't been to New York once in his life, but he knew enough of the streets to know how to end up back at the Boyds' place once he was done with his drive.

Unlike Andrew, Aaron wasn't picky with what he chose to drive. As long as he could adjust the seat and could see the road ahead of him, Aaron would drive. So he snatched the keys to Matt’s _other_ truck (a gift from his estranged father, apparently) shoved his feet into his sneakers, and took the elevator to the basement parking lot, and drove like a bat out of hell.

His mind took to wandering when it got late, and he wanted to at least do it by himself once during this holiday because _so much_ had happened this year. There was Katelyn, and there was Kevin’s yakuza troubles, and there was Gordon’s death, and there was the dinner at the Hemmicks’ and—

The Boyds' studio apartment was as suffocating as it was small, and Aaron wanted to minimize all interaction with Boyd (both mother and child) and Nicky all at once while he could. With how lenient Matt could be, Aaron was sure he'd at least get away with one night of being by himself, never mind that he had to steal Matt’s truck to do it.

It was a bit disappointing he couldn’t roll down the windows and have the wind blot out his thoughts, like he’d done with the Maserati. It was snowing lightly, and Aaron hadn’t thought to bring his jacket when he snuck out, just wanted to get behind a wheel and drive. He figured he could navigate around Virginia and New York’s roads to and from the apartment complex with the GPS built in Matt’s truck. He wasn’t going to take all Christmas anyway. This was just for tonight, however long it took to ease his nerves.

He stuck to the middle lane to avoid having to squint at head lights from the other road’s oncoming flow. The relaxing pattern of street lights that he drove past reeled his mind into depths he couldn’t have managed around Nicky and Kevin’s snoring, and the ambient sounds of the city floors and floors below.

With the sound of the engine beneath his feet, Aaron turned his mind’s eye towards himself and faced the facts and problems, from most recent to most stressful.

First of all, Randy Boyd was not the type of woman he liked to encounter on a regular basis. She was strong enough to lift at least twice Aaron’s weight, tall enough that he had to crane his head up to look at her face, and had a booming voice that he didn’t like to admit he flinched at.

She was very obviously Matt’s mother, and that was exactly the problem.

It wasn’t that Aaron felt awkward around her because he had the inkling feeling that he was the reason that provoked Matt’s more recent rehabilitation from drugs, though that was awkward in and of itself. It was more that Randy Boyd was a mother, and when she had tried to thank Aaron for what they’d done for Matt (instead of condemning their entire lot for what they did to Matt), she caught Aaron’s flinch mid-hug. And then she hugged him until he could recover from flinching, and Nicky was glass-eyed and wobbly-lipped, and Aaron _hated_ it.

He didn’t remember the last time he had an older woman hugging him like that. Maybe from a distant relative during Tilda’s funeral, maybe even from Aunt Maria when they went to visit the Hemmicks. His only recent experience of prolonged, affectionate contact usually came from Nicky, a drunk Kevin, and, more recently, Katelyn.

It was kind of…

He couldn’t even describe it.

And Katelyn. Right.

The case of Katelyn Miller was a hard one, and one that he had to deal with before Christmas break ended and the semester started. He’d been reckless enough as it is, bringing her to places that didn’t have campus police due to his own selfishness, and hiding in plain sight so that even _Neil Josten_ had caught them at the library. Even the upperclassmen’s betting pool was a risk.

He had to protect her from Andrew. He knew the conditions. Andrew didn’t want Aaron making friends, and a _girlfriend_ was definitely off the fucking deal because Andrew had to protect him from getting hurt by women.

But Aaron didn’t _need_ Andrew’s protection anymore. He just…

That was the third problem. His and Andrew’s deal had a deadline, and he didn’t know if he could revoke it, and he didn’t want to risk it.

Andrew was a constant that he could and would deal with, and the only reason he hadn’t left Aaron’s side yet is because of the deal. Otherwise, they were nothing and no one to each other. He couldn’t risk that.

But he couldn’t risk Katelyn either.

In frustration, he floored the gas pedal for a split second, swerving between lanes, reveling at the sound of horns beeping behind him as he did.

Good, let them get mad. If Aaron wasn’t supposed to have instant gratification, they could have instant road rage. It was probably a holiday miracle he didn’t get pulled over.

Music coming in the cup holder brought him out of his head. It was his phone. The tune of  _We Are The Champions_  playing told him that it was Kevin calling. When he glanced at the dashboard clock, the numbers read _1:02_.

He’d been gone for two hours already. Usually, when Kevin knocked out cold, he didn’t wake until ten hours later. With a sigh, he slowed down a bit.

He switched to the slower lanes and stopped by a lay-by to before answering the phone. “Get the fuck back to bed, Day.”

Kevin’s sigh through the speakers sounded like fabric ruffling, but it was one of relief. Maybe he absent-mindedly obeyed in his drunken state, and that was what it really was, not relief of having Aaron pick up the phone.

“ _Where the hell are you?_ ” He slurred words together, and it took Aaron a few seconds to guess what he just asked. If he just got up from sleep or was still inebriated, it wasn’t clear.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to. Why are you even calling.”

“ _Needed to… hear…s’ voice_.”

Kevin sounded halfway back to sleep already.

Aaron was the one to sigh this time. He wished he could be like Kevin, wished he could just hear his own voice and feel stability because all he could think of was Andrew’s protection and he was fine. He wished it was all that simple, that Andrew would give his protection for something other than Aaron’s isolation, so Aaron wouldn’t have to fear losing both him and Katelyn at the same time.

“I’m hanging up.”

Aaron glanced at the dashboard clock again. _1:03._ He took a deep breath and lingered before putting his phone down. He had to, before he could scroll down his log book and called the first contact he found there.

Katelyn needed a break from him.

 

Matt was waiting in the parking lot when he got back at 3 AM, seeming soft and small without his hair slicked upwards. He was smiling. Aaron didn’t have half the mind to look ashamed that he took Matt’s truck, and took that much time to get himself together. At the very least, he filled up the engine for the little amount he used before heading back.

Aaron wrenched the door open and hopped out, tossing the keys towards the taller man. The keys jumped from one backliner to another.

“Almost called the police for grand theft auto there, bud,” Matt quipped, but there was an edge to it.

Aaron gave him a brief look, then walked off towards the elevator. “I refilled the tank with how much I used, so it’s not like you would have noticed if I didn’t get caught.”

Matt was grinning when he said, “Well, you don’t really have to steal it, just tell me when you wanna use it, is all. I never use that truck, and Mom hates driving. She takes the metro.”

Aaron didn’t like that Matt was grinning. It seemed a little out of character that he would, especially since he’d caught Aaron in the middle of returning stolen goods. Maybe he thought Aaron was being chummy with him because they were speaking now. Aaron justified it within himself that he was speaking to him because the Boyds had paid for his bail.

“There won’t be a next time anyway,” Aaron retorted as they waited for the lift to get to the basement. He didn’t look at Matt, so much as he looked at the numbers counting down. _7... 6… 5…_

“You wouldn’t know that,” Matt told him. “It’s a long week until New Year’s Eve, and then another long week before we head back to South Carolina. The offer stands until then.”

 _...3 …2 …G_. Aaron risked a glance at Matt, and Matt grinned when they made eye-contact.

“Be careful what you bargain for, Boyd. You never know what you might get into.”

Matt huffed out a laugh. The elevator _dinged_ and the doors slid open. They stepped in together. A five-foot back liner next to a six-foot back liner walk into a lift. It sounded like a joke, but Aaron felt like he was the punch line.

“What’s there to lose?” Matt asked

 _Everything,_ Aaron didn’t say.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> asexual aaron is a headcanon that [dazedsam](http://dazedsam.tumblr.com/) and i share. 
> 
> any comments? leave some!! please!! i feel deprived. if you wanna tag stuff and spread the word, the tumblr post is [here](http://stubbornjerk.tumblr.com/post/155324911350).
> 
> i hope y'all had a lovely new year!!


	7. a friendly reminder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you can lose everything in a single second, remember that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> content warning: there's a bit of graphic stuff about drake again, about what riko had to do with andrew's stay at easthaven.

Andrew, being back into his prickly indifference, should probably be the last thing Aaron dreaded.

There were a plethora of things he could turn over in his head as time passed on the ride back from Easthaven.

Like, maybe, the fact that Andrew had taken the moment to consider the bruise on Kevin’s face.  That one wasn’t a long story at all. Neil, the walking, lying hazard that he was, had thought it prudent to run to Riko over the break, after the winter banquet. When Matt found out, there were consequences.

Or the fact that Neil not only sported cuts and bruises, but also his natural eye and hair color. Aaron should be dreading the consequences of Neil’s decision to run off to Evermore, and possibly the reasons of it.

This yakuza bullshit had been going on for the better part of the year now, and it had gotten considerably worse the moment they signed Neil “ridicule the bitter son of a mob boss” Josten onto the team. When this shit started, the worst it could get was when Riko sicced the rabid fans at them. Now, there was a fucking body count.

 But no, instead of _any_ of that, Aaron was dreading the fact that Andrew was off his meds. It was a complicated seesaw of emotions.

The last time Aaron had seen his twin, Andrew was grinning like his face wasn’t bleeding. He had a shock blanket wrapped around his shoulders exactly like the way Neil had wrapped around him moments before, with the blankets from the Hemmicks’ guest bedroom.

Aaron, at the time of seeing his brother, was ducking into a cop car with his hands bound behind him. It disturbed him, greatly, that his twin could still laugh after getting… after being—

And he was hit on the head with a _bottle_ so he couldn’t fucking _fight_ —

(And then… according to Josten, Riko had rigged all of it: the dinner with the Hemmicks, Luther, _Drake_ , including parts of Andrew’s stay at Easthaven. It was a horrific thing to consider.

Whatever Riko had told Josten about going to Evermore in exchange for not rigging the doctors at Easthaven, Aaron thought it more likely that the psychotic bastard would still go through with it, because Kevin still wasn’t in Evermore like the spoiled brat wanted.

It was… Aaron didn’t know what it was. It set his teeth on edge, made his nails itch with the urge to rake them across Riko’s face, trailing blood and little pieces of muscle underneath his fingernails. He’d never known such hatred until that winter banquet when Neil had punched Riko.

And having a reminder of all of it, through seeing his brother in the flesh now, made him want more than anything to slam his racquet repeatedly into Riko’s skull.

Because the worst thing they could do to Andrew other than denied detox inside Easthaven was to repeat what had sent Andrew there.

But then again, this was only a hypothetical.)

The last time Aaron had seen his twin completely _sober_ , on the other hand, was when Aaron was seated behind a large man as they attended Andrew’s trial, with his sights set on the offhand detail of Andrew’s jaw, which was clenched in unseen rage, the only part of his face that Aaron could spot at the time.

With the whole existence of Andrew being constant in his head—a constant wall hiding him from the world; a constant wall to lean on; a constant in general, like in one of Aaron’s problem sheets—it was disorienting to think of him as something… lesser. For so long, Andrew had become something infallible in Aaron’s head, and until that dinner at the Hemmicks, he thought it was going to keep being that way.

He thought of the scars lining Andrew’s arm, and thought _I get it now_ , and thought _he was never infallible, I was just stupid_. The fact that Andrew thought living with the Spears would be worth having to live with Drake was… it hurt. Even a year of the kind of treatment Andrew saw through in the Hemmicks’ guest bedroom would’ve had Aaron set to living numbered days too, if he was being honest.

What kind of unstable behavior would this deader version of a sober Andrew be capable of? Would this version of Andrew still be on the run for his tit-for-tat behavior? Would this Andrew acknowledge that the scales had been tilted back to equal and ignore the violation that was Aaron and Katelyn’s relationship?

As Palmetto State University finally came into view, Aaron thought maybe this was the reset button to everything that had happened.

He just hoped Katelyn would stop pestering him to talk to Dobson.

* * *

 

The trashed parking lot was Neil’s fault.

Aaron knew enough that it most definitely was Neil’s fault, because all the attacks against the Foxes for this entire school year happened after Neil did something stupid like open his fucking mouth.

But that didn’t mean that a lot of the things that happened after the rude wake-up call was Neil’s fault too.

He couldn’t get the image of Andrew out of his head, hand carefully squeezed around Allison’s throat. Andrew shouldn’t have. Aaron deserved the punch she gave him. Aaron deserved more than that. Seth Gordon was not a decent human being, but Aaron had mourned his death as much as the others had, and he shouldn’t have used that fact against Neil even if he was partially responsible for getting Gordon killed.

He couldn’t get the sound of Neil’s words out of his head either, openly proclaiming what his and Andrew’s bargain was. Of course it was going to be about Exy. Aaron didn’t know why he expected otherwise. But his inclusion in the exchange was what he focused on.

Aaron was reeling with the fact that he was _right_ and he hated that feeling. He had been right all along, to suspect that Andrew would do almost anything to protect Aaron, to keep his stupid five-year old promise to protect Aaron from any woman harming him. Of course, it was always on his mind. He didn't want to risk what he had, especially after what Andrew had done to his exes in high school. Still, it was kind of daunting to be _right_ about something so wrong.

Like, it wouldn’t matter if she were as much of a stranger to Andrew as Tilda was, or if she were as close to Andrew as Betsy was. If _any woman_ harmed Aaron, there would most definitely be consequences.

He had to warn Katelyn. Never mind that he’d already warned her about a thousand times before, and about a thousand times after. He had to warn her, to keep her safe, to keep her with him.

He rushed to her dorm, taking two steps at a time. He knocked on the door to her dorm room, not caring if Alice or Marissa were there. He needed to talk to her as soon as possible, and get back to the Tower as soon as possible, before Dan or Nicky noticed that he was gone. Worst case scenario, Andrew would be the first to notice.

Knowing his own luck, Aaron bet it would probably be Andrew anyway. Or Josten.

 _Fuck_.

He knocked again, because no one was opening. He was careful to keep his knocks calm, to not let his agitation out on the door. This was an urgent matter, and he was a firm believer that things always ran slower when it knows that you’re in a hurry.

Fuck, he just wished one of them would just _open the fucking door_.

He came face to face with a mousy-haired Vixen just as short as he was. She was Marissa, from what Aaron could remember. He’d never seen her inside Katelyn’s dorm room before, but he did see her that one time the upperclassmen invited the Vixens to hang out.

“Where’s Kaye,” Aaron demanded.

Marissa raked her eyes from his feet to his head, extremely unimpressed. She didn’t move out to let Aaron in, but she did lean against the doorframe and shouted, “Katelyn! Your boyfriend’s here to see you!”

Aaron took care not to flinch at the volume.

Katelyn was out of their rooms, within a few minutes, looking a little grim.

“I won’t be long, don’t lock the door,” she told Marissa.

Marissa shrugged, but threw Aaron one last glare before slamming the door shut behind her.

“What is her deal,” Aaron muttered under his breath, giving the door one last lingering glance before following Katelyn down the hall.

Katelyn sighed. “She’s probably still bitter about Neil turning her down.”

Aaron rolled his eyes. “Someone else who has a problem with Josten. Great. Her and me, both.”

“You got a problem with Neil?”

Aaron gave her a look. “You’re on a first-name basis with the guy?”

Katelyn let out a weak laugh as they descended the stairs. She lived on the second floor of the dormitory, luckily, so they didn’t have to take a huge pause in the conversation. “Why, are you jealous? Because I heard the other girls on the squad, Matt, and Allison are betting that he’s dating your brother. Dan is against that, and Renee’s off the deal because her pool with Andrew is still open.”

“Josten doesn’t swing. The bet’s off,” Aaron said derisively.

“You don’t either,” Katelyn retorted as they made it to the first landing.

A few people waved at Katelyn, and she waved back. Aaron took her hand when she stretched it out between them. Together, they stepped out of the dorm and walked down the street. He was sure neither of them had a destination, but he wasn’t against taking a walk with her to feel better.

“Anyway, back to earlier,” Katelyn started as they crossed the road, “you don’t swing either, but that doesn’t make the bet on _us_ off, does it?”

Aaron bumped his hip against hers as they walked, knocking Katelyn further away from him. She pulled at his hand and pulled him back against her. He asked, “Are you suggesting something?”

Katelyn raised a brow at him, a bit of a smug smile on her face. In Aaron’s honest opinion, it was extremely cute. “Are you suggesting that I just assume everything people expect me to believe is real?”

Aaron laughed, feeling like his whole chest was caving with a feeling he couldn’t describe. “No, I don’t think so. You _are_ dating me, after all.”

Katelyn raised a brow at him. Aaron returned it with his own raised brow.

“My brother’s the campus psychopath, and I murdered someone not so long ago. That’s the kind of person people tell you not to date.”

“Well,” Katelyn huffed, which meant that this was going to be a long discussion. Not that Aaron minded, of course. “If we’re getting all fact check-y here, Aaron Michael, your brother is apparently the talk of the Criminology department. I mean, apart from the fact that his case is a fascinating chance for on-the-job training. Supposedly, everyone’s crushing on him. Including one of my roommates.”

Aaron scrunched his nose up at that. “Marissa?”

Katelyn laughed. “No, Alice. Marissa’s too mad about Neil to like your brother. Why do you think she was giving you the eye earlier? She thinks that Neil and Andrew are legit, and she was looking to see what was so good about Minyards that it stole eye candy like Neil.”

“That’s fucked up.” Aaron retorted, his tone taking on a smidgen of disgust, but only toward the fact that people believed the rumors about Andrew and Neil. Honestly, he expected (and kind of wanted) people to suspect Kevin and Andrew instead, seeing as both shared a longer history, but he could see why Allison and Matt would think so, especially after Halloween and the whole matter of punching Riko at the last banquet.

It didn’t mean he’d have to like it.

Well, who would? Neil was a walking lie, a hazard to everyone associated to him, and was  _hiding something_. If Andrew was in relations with that kind of person, Aaron only hoped it was more the  _murderer-victim_ kind of schtick, with Josten stuck six feet under. 

They headed for one of the quads, knowing that it was empty, especially since it was around the time before most classes started. It was mostly why Aaron headed to the Vixens’ dorms at this hour. If he recalled correctly, that would mean that he had about an hour left to speak with Katelyn about Andrew, to warn her again, for the third time.

“Who are you to say that a bet on your brother and teammate are fucked up, Aaron Michael? You live with _the Foxes_ , and no offense, but y'all kind of have this reputation of being? That’s definitely not the most fucked up thing you’ve ever heard and you know it,” Katelyn scolded. She headed for one of the trees in the quad and plopped down underneath the shade.

Aaron sighed. He definitely didn’t need to be reminded of the fact.

“I know. Just this morning, the parking lot got trashed by Ravens’ fans.”

Katelyn patted the grass next to her, urging Aaron to sit down. “Oh, is that why your cheek is a bit swollen?”

Aaron blinked, but sat down anyway.  When she leaned against him, he freed the hand he had between them to rub at his sore cheek. Allison really knew how to hit hard, not that Aaron wasn’t used to it. “You mean you noticed and didn’t tell me until just now.”

“It didn’t seem polite. Answer the question.”

“Alright, Jesus. No, it wasn’t the Ravens’ fans who hit me.”

Katelyn’s mood shifted. Aaron could see the clouds creep across her expression, her face becoming grim altogether. In a small voice, she asked, “Was it Andrew?”

“No!” Andrew would never hurt him physically unless he deserved it. So far, Aaron had avoided him too skillfully to actually deserve anything apart from harsh words. The knife treatment had been exclusively Nicky’s since the day Aaron drove off with the GS.

Aaron hoped it came across that way to Katelyn too.

“Then tell me what happened,” Katelyn demanded, as if Aaron wouldn’t give her anything she asked for.

So Aaron told her.

All from the moment he’d been jolted awake by Matt banging down the hallway door like the world was ending, to the second Nicky started groaning and moaning about the dead fox in the back seat of the wrecked GS, to the snapshot moment of Allison’s hand laying a crisp one on his cheek, to Andrew and Neil’s snarled German exchange. Aaron told her everything he could think of about what had happened that morning, and then some.

“We should probably lay even lower, now that Andrew set that out,” Aaron muttered, his gaze solely focused on the way his fingers interlocked with each other. He tried to make himself smaller as he sat against the tree beside Katelyn. “He’s not stupid, and I bet he already knows about us.”

“Aaron…”

Aaron looked up at her, and saw that the grim expression on her face had stayed all throughout Aaron’s recollection of the events. She looked beautiful, no matter the stormy look on her face, with her brown eyes looking black in the shade. Her skin was a russet, reddish-brown in this light, this close. She was alive, vivid, and breathing, a clear contrast to how pale and lifeless Aaron seemed.

“Aaron, babe,” she reached up slowly, making to touch his cheek. He allowed her, pressing back against the palm of her hand. The comfort of her cradling his head like this was familiar, from many a sleepless night during the fall season, when Andrew was still in Easthaven. He missed it, and he didn’t all at the same time.

“You need to talk to him.”

The moment shattered.

Aaron scoffed, pulling away. “Kaye, come _on_.”

Katelyn didn’t push, just settled for putting her hands in her lap, mimicking Aaron’s pose. “It’s not a suggestion anymore, Aaron. I’m serious. Either you do it, or we’re through.”

“I—what?”

Aaron, for some reason, found the sinking feeling in his stomach rather familiar. Part of his mind was comforted to have it back, after a few weeks of not having it, a few moments with Katelyn slowly let him forget that he had it there the whole time.

“You heard me,” Katelyn said, more firmly now that Aaron had reacted accordingly. “You _need_ to. For the both of us, just _please_ , talk to Andrew. Get Betsy to sort out a session for you to talk to each other, even, in case he runs off because he doesn’t want to listen to you.”

Aaron couldn’t just let it go like this. He couldn’t pick between losing Andrew and losing Katelyn. If he lost Andrew, he’d be losing the only person that chose him no matter the consequences, and if he lost Katelyn, he’d be losing the only person that he chose and who chose him back. It tore him apart inside to have this come up.

“What is this all of a sudden?” he asked, his voice shaky with emotion he couldn’t let out. Katelyn still sat close to him, kept her voice in soft hushes, still so careful around him.

“It is not all of a sudden, and you know it,” she insisted. “You _know_ it, Aaron. And you know, maybe you _should_ push through getting Betsy involved. Babe, you’ve been having nightmares since that dinner in Columbia. This isn’t fair for either of us. If you’re really that scared of Andrew hurting me, you should just talk to him.”

“It’s not that simple,” Aaron said, his voice defeated. A lot of Katelyn’s points were right. And he’d admitted it to himself already. He would do anything for Katelyn, even this. This was a losing argument.

Aaron didn’t want to lose just yet, but he could see that Katelyn knew he was going to go through with it.

“It is, Aaron,” Katelyn whispered. “It is that simple. You’re just denying it, because you don’t like that it’s been that simple all along and you’ve been denying yourself the opportunity to fix this for that amount of given time. You’re denying it because you got used to it for _five years_ , and you’re not letting it go.

“That’s not fair for you, because you want to be happy, no matter how much you deny yourself. That’s not fair for Andrew, because he’s been waiting for you to get back at him for so long since your mother. And it’s not fair for me, to listen to all the things you go through and feel helpless every time. It’s never been fair, Aaron. Please, just talk to him. For all of our sakes.”

Really, Aaron got it. She was right. He had been denying it for that long. He had been closing his eyes willingly, closing in on himself to keep everything the way it was while time passed before he could make a decision he was definitely not going to make.

“He won’t do it,” he argued still. “Even if I get Betsy involved in this, he wouldn’t do it.”

“He will,” Katelyn said with such conviction that Aaron almost believed her. He wished he could. “He will agree to this. Neil already agreed to persuade him. The decision was up to me, on when I wanted to push you to agree with this.”

Aaron froze in his seat. Katelyn rose from hers. She seemed so different when she stood over him, so regal and proud. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and walked off.

“ _What_?” Aaron called out, scrambling to stand and follow. She had mentioned Neil but he couldn’t see where he belonged in this conversation.

“No, Aaron.” She replied. Aaron stopped in his tracks. She turned to look at him one last time before saying, “I love you, a lot. And if that means anything to you, you will speak to your brother. I’m not talking to you about this until you sort it out.”

It was when she walked away, however long ago that was, that Aaron realized that all of it, from this morning, to this moment, was Neil’s fault.

He walked away from the quad, fuming. He had a starting striker to punch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, that was a bit of a cliff hanger, eh? rant about it in the comments. honestly guys, i am deprived of comments. 
> 
> the tumblr post would be [here](http://stubbornjerk.tumblr.com/post/155445047555) if you need to share with your friends about how fucking weird it is that i left it there. or not. it's 2 AM, gimme some slack.
> 
> side note: i might actually punch neil too, if this happened to me.


	8. i don't know what to say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> during and after baltimore, and before and after the championship games

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from quote from Five Easy Pieces, which i found in [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tmLqT8JbJOU). it's really pretty and reminds me a lot of the twins, go take a listen!

Aaron sagged into one of the plastic seats in the waiting room, holding his phone up to his ear. With a bored voice, he said, “Yes, Nicky, I’m fine.”

“ _Elaborate, Aaron Michael. I know you hate Neil, but sometimes stupidity is contagious_ ,” Nicky mock-scolded as Aaron took a deep breath that was half relief, half to calm himself down.

It was late, he was tired, and as much as he hated to admit it, his body kind of felt sore, considering that he played a full half earlier that night. Katelyn, thankfully, wasn’t too banged up by the riot, but Alice was, and Katelyn had been too worried to leave her alone, so Aaron had to come with them.

The riot that Binghamton’s crowd had escalated quickly, to the point that the quick trip from the stadium to the bus had proven difficult enough. When the Foxes couldn’t gather quickly enough at the bus when it had started, and Andrew had already went to and from the bus twice looking for his charges (namely, Kevin and Neil), Aaron told Coach he’d be at the hotel sometime later, and that he needed to see if the Vixens were okay. Aaron had extracted himself from the bus, earlier that night, sustaining a few injuries on the way to the hospital Katelyn told him to go to, which was where he was now.

(He was making up for lost time, he told himself. Katelyn had held out a little too long with her cold shoulder, and Aaron actually had to chase after her the Wednesday before, after Chem, even though he’d already solved the issue of speaking with Andrew earlier that day.

“Dobson says Andrew and I have to smooth things out before I bring up what brought me to her in the first place,” he explained to her when she tried to shrug him off. “I can’t force Andrew into talking about this. It’s _therapy_ , Kaye, you can’t force anyone in there. It’s—it’s, whatever the fuck they call it, deliberate manipulation?”

Katelyn had to laugh at that. There was an edge to her laughter, but Aaron didn’t care. He just wanted her talking to him.

“Fine,” Katelyn relented. Aaron couldn’t help the sigh that came out of him when she said that. “But we’re not going on any dates until you _know_ he’s not going to hurt either of us. Capiche?”

Aaron laughed and rolled his eyes. “Capiche.”)

Coach had texted him the address to the hotel and the rooms they were to occupy a few minutes before Nicky called. It was near midnight now, and activity at the hospital didn’t show signs of slowing down. The riot really took out a lot of drunken Exy fans, it seemed.

He glanced down the hall, towards the entrance. He rearranged himself so that he was sitting facing the entrance, trapping his phone between shoulder and ear. “Yes, Nicky, I am absolutely _positive_ that I am fine and that I’m _not_ bleeding through every crevice of my body yet still able to hold an Exy racquet,” he deadpanned. “What was the point of this call again? I already told you that the Vixens and I are fine where we are. Multiple times, in fact.”

Nicky’s laugh was nothing but a hiss through the phone speaker, and it sounded faked to boot. Aaron wasn’t surprised. Nicky must have been injured through the riot, and probably just as tired as he was.

“ _I just wanted to check up, is all,_ ” Nicky's tinny voice said, sounding just this side of defensive. “ _One moment, I had both twins and Neil behind me, the next second, Neil is gone, you’re gone, and Andrew couldn’t be controlled enough to stop going after him and Kevin through that crowd. I had to find out from Coach where y’all were, save for Neil. That boy…_ ”

Nicky’s next words were drowned out by the hospital entrance slamming open, admitting the last person Aaron expected or ever wanted to see in a hospital ever again.

Andrew was disheveled and wet, his bruised eye looking horrid under the fluorescent lights of the hallways that painted him pale white. He trailed mud inside, shouldering past the people exiting the building. He had a bulky handkerchief in his hand. His coat wasn’t buttoned up completely, revealing the grime and blood stuck to the white of his Fox hoodie.

He looked about ready to stab someone.

“I’ll call you back,” Aaron said into his phone, cutting Nicky off mid-ramble. Nicky started saying something else, but Aaron was already up and out of his seat, locking his phone, and pocketing it. He met Andrew halfway to the nurse’s station and caught the last thing he said as he approached.

“…look into the logs and tell me if he’s been admitted.”

Aaron raised his brows at that. The nurse looked lost for a few hanging seconds, looking like Andrew had just given her instructions in German instead of English.

In response, Andrew gave the desk a hard kick, jolting the nurse out of her daze.

“I suggest you hurry it up,” Andrew said in a calm, deadly voice. Aaron nodded at the nurse when she gave him a confused look. Without further ado, she set to looking through the logs.

She made a noise that could only be taken as an aborted _Oh no_. “Um, no Neil Josten in our logs here. Sorry, sir.”

Andrew didn’t miss a beat. “Abram, then. Someone under that name.”

“Uh…”

Andrew spelled it out for her, quick and concise to any passersby. To Aaron, it sounded impatient.

“…Nothing here either, sir. I’m sorry.”

Andrew took a heaving breath and exhaled through his teeth, a sound of complete and utter frustration. Aaron hadn’t seen his brother this mad since after the home game with Neil’s freak accident in the locker rooms.

Andrew barked, “Auburn hair, blue eyes, barely taller than me. Someone with that profile, this evening.”

“No one. For f—uh, sorry,” the nurse stammered, looking like she was about to cry. “I can tell the police, if you’re looking for him? File a missing person’s report?”

Andrew stomped off to the entrance without dignifying that with a response. Aaron was just surprised it took him that long to lose his temper. “Don’t bother,” Aaron answered for him. “He probably already did.”

The nurse grumbled, glaring after his twin. “Okay then.”

Aaron went after Andrew.

He pushed through the hospital entrance and found his brother sitting by the corner of the stairs, a lit cigarette already perched on Andrew’s lips. The bundle of… ice, it seemed, was pressed against his eye. He was smoking, tense, and worried.

About Josten too, of all people.

Aaron sat down next to him.

The noise of activity was drowned out by the open area. Gravel crackling under wheels of the cars dropping people off and picking people up by the ramps, the distant sounds of the city at night becoming ambient noise. The ground was as dark as it was wet, letting Aaron know that it had actually started drizzling at some point, which explained the mud and Andrew’s paler complexion. It was chilly out, and Aaron had half the mind to tell his brother to rest up before he caught a cold.

He didn’t. Andrew, let loose, wasn’t something to hold back. His health could go to shit and he wouldn’t care until he got what he wanted.

“Josten’s missing,” Aaron said, in German. He didn’t know what he was doing, figuring Andrew out probably. He didn’t know if this was safe. But he gave up giving a fuck about that around the third time they entered Dobson’s office and came out knowing more about each other’s pasts than knowing what to do about their presents. “You’re checking around for him like a bat out of hell.”

Andrew ignored him, blowing out smoke into the cold air, keeping the ice on his eye.

Aaron shook his head at that. He asked, “What makes you think he hasn’t ran off yet?”

“You don’t care,” Andrew snapped in English, his voice a little croaky either from dehydration or smoking. It seemed the smoke hadn’t eased his nerves even a little. “If you want to know something, wait until Wednesday and stop pretending you do.”

Aaron rolled his eyes and leaned back on his hands, keeping his eyes on the skyline ahead. It didn’t seem like Andrew was going to say anymore than that, but Aaron stayed with him. They were both working on that, deliberately being in each other’s general vicinity.

“He left his phone and bag.”

Aaron flicked a look toward his brother. Andrew, who was always impassive, was a sight to see, to fear even, when he was this worried. He had probably been close to stabbing the nurse back in there, in how frantic he was in his search for Josten, and Aaron couldn’t find it in himself to not be amazed in how that probably wasn’t the first close call of the evening.

“So? He wouldn’t just leave without his things?” Aaron responded.

Andrew stood, dropped what was left of his cigarette on the ground and ground it out beneath his sneakers. The action seemed deliberate, as if Andrew was taking some of his frustration out on it. “He wouldn’t leave anything.  If he ran, he wouldn’t want a trace left to find or remember him by.”

Aaron couldn’t help but huff in disbelief. “So you think he’s been kidnapped just because he left a remembrance?”

Andrew dropped the hand that had been holding up his little bundle of ice to his side, glanced at Aaron, at his mocking tone, his eyes vicious—partly for the underlying rage beneath the impassive look, partly for the blood in his bruised eye. Aaron met him head on, feigned fearlessness riding high in the cold night.

Andrew said, bored tone betrayed only by his tense form, “I know him.”

Promptly, he walked off.

“Where are you going?” Aaron called out, moving to stand.

“To look for him.”

He watched his brother make for the sidewalk, already lighting another cigarette as he walked, the ice packet pressed firmly against his bruised eye again. Aaron wondered if Andrew would look for him just desperately as if he were the one missing, then shook himself out of it and walked back into the hospital.

* * *

This was it, the conversation with Andrew that Dobson and Josten had been hinging on since October. A lot of things had happened since the beginning of these sessions, a lot of conversations had opened up a plethora of things Aaron knew he and Andrew weren't going to talk about outside Dobson's office anyway.

A lot of things including the whole ordeal at New York, at the hospital, the whole fiasco inside the bus on the way to Baltimore. Then, there was getting Neil back at Baltimore, with Neil looking nine times worse than he did when he got back from Virginia over Christmas break, and finding out that the bets were actually as real as they could get, because Andrew and Neil were a _thing_.

(Really, what the hell? Aaron _knew_ the guy was in the mafia, but to be that closely related to someone so deep in the business? The _Butcher of Baltimore_? Shit was straight out of The Godfather.

Fuck, Andrew _really_ knew how to pick ‘em, and Aaron wasn’t all that surprised, considering the fact that Andrew had murdered their mother. He was more surprised it got more serious. With the kind of background Neil said he had, it sounded like _he_  needed more therapy than he suggested the twins should get.)

So, yeah, there were definitely a lot of things to think about, and even more to want to say on the way to Reddin. If Andrew felt the tension in the air on the drive over, and he most definitely did, he didn’t mention it. Not like Aaron expected anything else.

In these sessions, they never really had anything to talk about apart from the past. Aaron found out a lot about Andrew's foster homes, and Andrew found out a lot about the nights Aaron spent sleeping in tight spaces to try to hide from his mother's friends coming over.

After proper observation and speculation of gathered data, Aaron decided to conduct his experiment.

Kind of.

Actually, what happened was: Dobson had brought up the subject of the twins' respective significant others with her own particular brand of honesty.

She admitted that yes, Neil had actually approached her to bring up these sessions if one of the twins asked; that Neil had been planning on fixing the twins since late October, after the first game against the Ravens. Then, Neil had approached Katelyn with the option of an ultimatum against Aaron, saying that he would find a way to make Andrew agree on it, eventually.

The subject had set Aaron into a mood, much like it had the day he actually realized it.

"It's fucking rude! That asshole had no right to just impose himself onto the situation like that, he—"

“Why not?” Dobson interrupted.

In a moment of disbelief, Aaron flicked a look towards Andrew, and found nothing. He didn't think he'd find anything to explain how the fuck he should be putting up with this fucking therapist, but Aaron was definitely hoping something was going to be there.

With a huff, he responded. “What, you expect me to believe he had any say on what should happen? What goes on between Andrew and I should fucking stay that way, and if  he has a problem with it, he can take it up with one of us.”

“Okay, Aaron,” Dobson placated. “The deal _is_ exclusively yours and Andrew’s business. But taking it up with either of you will be assuming that either of you were going to do something about it without the intervention, and it’s assuming that Katelyn wasn’t actually going to get hurt if Andrew continued to let you have at it. If he told you to push her away, you would, you know that.”

God, Aaron hated it when everyone was right.

Dobson continued. “Look at it from Neil’s perspective, Aaron. He’s seen that you and Andrew had spent the better part of say, five years together, that you and Nicholas have sunken into this habit of just accepting what Andrew has given you both without contest. Neil saw, as an outsider, that what you needed was a little push, and that you wouldn’t speak to Andrew otherwise if the stakes weren’t raised high enough. So since Katelyn wanted to fix your relationship with Andrew as much as he did, Neil gave her the choice of making you at least try to.

“Now, I’m not siding with Neil. I do believe that it was a bit of an invasion of privacy on your part, and unfair, considering that Katelyn means a lot to you. You did think Andrew would hurt Katelyn badly and wanted to protect her—” at that, Aaron scoffed. Neither twin _thought_ Andrew would hurt Katelyn, they _knew_ “—but with that said, Neil’s goal was to get the two of you talking, and it just so happened that Katelyn made her move when Andrew got back from Easthaven. From what I can understand, from your pasts, Neil probably seems to think that you’re both on equal grounds, after what happened with your aunt and uncle. Is that correct?”

Silence reigned. This was old talk by then, that Andrew had killed Tilda for Aaron, and Aaron had killed Drake for Andrew, and neither was going to apologize. Aaron wasn't going to take what he said about it back. He didn't really care that he'd killed Drake for Andrew, and would definitely repeat it if given the chance. Maybe stretch out the process. Fuck what Andrew thought. What drove him over the edge about it, when Neil had brought it up to him once, was when Neil had accused him of taking Andrew’s chances of foster parents that actually loved him.

Aaron knew better than Dobson. Neil wasn’t really that invested into having the twins make up, up until recently. This was all about bringing the team together to make them a better team for the next time they see the Ravens. Even Andrew probably knew that.

But Neil was right. He and Andrew were practically even now. At this point, Aaron didn’t have to fear that Andrew might bring up the bargain to spite him of going against it, because Aaron had done Andrew just as much of a favor as killing Tilda was.

Neil was the outlier to this stupid fucking equation, as was Katelyn.

God, really, Aaron hated it when everyone was right.

So, in protest, Aaron drew his bargain.

“Then it’s settled then,” Aaron said, ignoring Dobson, ignoring the weight sinking familiarly into the pit of his stomach that wouldn’t go away when he told himself that this was all for the better. He shifted a bit in his seat, angling himself a bit so that he could look at Andrew without having to turn his head by much. “An ultimatum for an ultimatum, Andrew Joseph. If Neil gets to involve Katelyn between us, I get to involve him between us. And this time, it’s not for the shit he’s pulled. I’m doing this for me.”

“Selfish of you,” Andrew commented off-handedly, but Aaron could see past his impassiveness. He’d have to be a complete idiot to miss the way Andrew’s right hand slid over his left wrist, the way Andrew gave him a sidelong glance.

“I get to be,” Aaron retorted. “Just like you get to be. Here’s a bargain: you can keep your promise with me and isolate yourself until fifth year. I’ll leave you behind after that, and never look back.”

Andrew raised a brow, thoroughly unimpressed.

“Or, you can keep Neil, and let the promise go now.”

It was stupid to gamble like this, but Aaron knew better. There had been hints throughout the year, but he hadn’t noticed until Baltimore. He couldn’t believe how much of this went over his head.

The clothes, the phone, and now the car? And then there was Andrew’s concern, let loose enough that even the Foxes had thought Andrew was acting extremely suspicious the whole night after the Binghamton game. The conversation Andrew and Neil had in German at the hotel room in Baltimore seemed pretty fucking intimate, in and of itself. Andrew walking out of Matt and Neil’s room in Neil’s clothing. And then, the room sharing up at the mountains.

Andrew had to take the bait. This wasn’t just a fuck to Andrew anymore, even Roland knew that. The observations added up to one simple conclusion.

But still, it was stupid to gamble like this.

Andrew told him as much. “Neil is not yours for you to bargain your freedom with.”

Aaron took a deep breath to control himself. Really, Andrew had mastered the ability to speak so concisely that he could manage to get on anyone’s nerves.

“Neither is he yours to keep,” Aaron snapped. He’d done enough thinking about this.

If Neil still had his promise with Andrew going until Baltimore, Andrew would be in worse shape. In fact, if Neil still had his promise going in Baltimore, he wouldn’t have gone out of sight anyway. Neil wasn’t on his bargain of protection anymore, and yet there Andrew went, hauling up hospital after hospital to look for Neil. There Andrew went, bending for whatever Neil _asked_ for. When Neil got agitated, there Andrew was for him.

And when the group dispersed all throughout the court, there Neil was, jogging around the inner court with Renee and Andrew.

Andrew kept his eyes in Aaron’s general direction, but not directly at him. They could never work over looking at each other directly for more than a few minutes. Aaron suspected it was more that they hated each themselves than each other.

Aaron took a deep breath to remind himself that he was being as selfish as he wanted Andrew to be. He said, finally. “Make your choice, Andrew: Neil or me. Be selfish, this time.” 

* * *

 

Aaron doesn’t usually forget details.

Before the big night, the Foxes had a whole lot to worry about. _A whole lot_ meaning their game. The Ravens were too good to beat, Aaron knew, but this kind of desperation brought up in the team became so all-consuming that it even got to him. At the point they were going, he had to be honest, they might actually stand a chance.

It got so out of hand that even Andrew and he cancelled their session with Betsy to maximize their time that week, and all the Foxes started barging into Kevin, Neil, and Andrew’s nightly practices to practice some more.

This match was a long time coming, especially for the local Exy junkies.

Walking into Evermore that Friday, Aaron felt so out of it, he could feel imaginary war drums banging beneath his feet with every step they took inside the Nest, but he noticed Neil looking queasy from beside Andrew and decided that maybe they weren’t imaginary at all.

It was a testament to how nervous he was that he said, aloud, “This place looks more like a UFO than a nest, on the outside.”

Beside Aaron, Nicky smiled, and Aaron hurried to justify it within himself that he only made the UFO comment to make Nicky smile again, if only to get rid of the admission of nerves. Walking a few feet ahead of them, Matt let out a hearty laugh that echoed down the hall.

Aaron kept forgetting one important detail as time passed.

The gloomy halls of the Nest made it feel suffocating inside the locker room. Everything was black and red, and Aaron wasn’t very picky with interior decorum, but honestly, those Exy freaks need lighter colors inside those halls. If Neil and Kevin had warned them beforehand about how seriously the Ravens took their hype (up until then, he thought it was just their wardrobes that matched, not their entire fucking stadium/dormitory), he should have bought a can of spray paint on the few bus stops they made from South Carolina to Virginia. It wouldn’t hurt to give a little payback for all the vandalism the Ravens’ fans have done in the past two years, right?

The stadium was bigger when they walked out of it, and the bleachers accommodated all types of people wearing black.

Black. There was so much black. When they warmed up, the Ravens wore black, but when Aaron set his sights on them this time, they seemed less like the SUV barreling its way towards what was left of the Foxes’ measly lineup they seemed like last October, and more like the queue to Eden’s Twilight on a Friday night, just an inconvenience Aaron had to get through to get to all the good bits inside.

Seeing them gave Aaron a mixture of unease and excitement and bloodthirstiness and arrogance that he couldn’t believe he was feeling.

It took him until he was in the middle of a conversation with Katelyn, right before the game, before Aaron realized that the bloodthirstiness was because they were up against the Ravens. Because Riko Moriyama was here.

Aaron couldn’t _believe_ he forgot that.

Katelyn gave him a concerned look when he stopped talking all of a sudden. “You okay there, babe?”

 _Riko Moriyama was here_. He was here, and he was in the starting lineup, a striker going up against Renee in the goal for the better part of the first half, as the Foxes had agreed upon, but still had to go through the back liners.

“Aaron, hey,” Katelyn tried again, snapping her fingers in front of his face to prevent herself from touching him. Aaron hadn’t reacted that violently to touch since January, but he didn’t have it in him to make her stop.

“He’s here, Kaye,” Aaron finally said, his voice dazed and a little awed. “Riko’s here and I’m gonna beat the shit out of him.”

“You mean,” Katelyn leaned out of his space, looking around the stadium. “The one who was behind the… the whole thing with Andrew? _That_ Riko?”

Aaron wrapped arms around himself, trying to hold himself together. He feared that if he didn’t, he’d shake himself apart before the game even started. “Yeah, that Riko.”

Katelyn gave him a grim look, then nodded. She glanced at her roommates, who were probably giving them weird looks from all the way over to their assigned places. She took Aaron’s face into her hands and leaned her forehead against his.

The soft smell of her lotion made him relax imperceptibly into her touch, his eyelids sliding shut against the soft feeling of her hands against his cheek. From this close, if he opened his eyes, Aaron would see the little flecks of gold in Katelyn’s warm, brown eyes. He didn’t need to open his eyes. He knew they were there.

He dropped his hands to the side, pushing back against Katelyn to tell her that he was okay.

“Don’t get carded, okay?” Katelyn told him. “Wreck him good, as much as you can.”

Aaron nodded. He would take an illegal swing at Riko, if he wanted to, but he needed Katelyn to tell him that he should be doing it without having it to be illegal. He just hoped that Riko was his mark, instead of whoever the fuck else they wanted, but considering his luck, Matt would probably be the first to take a swing.

From behind him, he could hear the Coach blow at his whistle to gather all the Foxes and bring them back to the lockers for the lineup announcements.

He took another deep breath to calm a good bit of his frayed nerves.

“Watch me go at him,” he told her.

Katelyn grinned, and it lit up her whole face, fierce and strong, the way Aaron always wanted it to look like. She leaned in to kiss him soundly on the lips, and Aaron felt all the jitters slither out beneath his feet, as if her lips had chased them out.

She gave him a little push towards where Coach was waiting when they heard him shout at Aaron to _haul ass now and get ass later_.

“I’ll be cheering from the sidelines,” she told him.

 

The scent of Katelyn’s lotion was overpowering from where Aaron rested his head against the crook of her neck.

He’d never known to identify with the words _bone-tired_ before. There was tired, like eyes burning the back of his eyelids after just five hours of sleep back in high school. There was exhaustion, like lying in bed wishing for sleep but being unable to, back when Tilda used to bring friends over in Oakland.

 _Bone-tired_ , Aaron thought, had less to do with creaking joints and more to do with feeling like he could collapse into a boneless heap and never get up. It had less to do with not wanting to get up afterward, and more to do with feeling too tired to handle what was coming next.

He wasn’t the only one.

It spoke volumes that no one made to comment about how close Aaron was to Katelyn, even Nicky who was curled up with Erik in another part of the waiting room. The upperclassmen were noticeably quiet too, considering that at this point after a game—regardless of wins or loses—they would most likely be talking about alcohol.

This had been the biggest win the Foxes had won in the long run. Every single person in the room was proud of their victory in their own way, whether it was because of finally beating Edgar Allan’s winning streak or because of redeeming Palmetto State from its losing streak. Aaron was just glad that it was all over.

He couldn’t help but look back at the most intense 45-minute of his entire life, and all the shit that went down after. He hadn’t been on court when Andrew had broken Riko’s arm to defend Neil, but he had been there to watch Andrew tell Matt to swap Neil in as back liner. Aaron had been there to see his brother invest in something that he initially said he never wanted to take complete interest on, and frankly, it was exhilarating.

He’d seen the snapshot moments of Andrew’s racquet swinging down Riko’s own swinging arm, scrambling to defend a defenseless Neil Josten between the goal and the far-court. Countless cameras had seen this too. There was no recovering from that, and he didn’t just mean the arm injury.

Aaron took another deep breath when he realized he seemed more satisfied about that moment rather than worried for his brother’s case. Considering the Foxes’ lot in life, they were bound to earn more flack rather than defended for the whole scene, but Riko deserved every single injury he had after what he’d put the Foxes and his own teammates through, after what he'd put _Andrew_ through.

“Where are you sleeping tonight?” Katelyn asked him softly.

Aaron opened his eyes. He was met with Katelyn’s warm brown eyes, the profile of her face. Aaron hadn’t known himself to be used to meeting other people’s eyes. He couldn’t even meet his own most of the time (though, more could be said about how intense Andrew’s eyes were, for someone with as much facial expression as a rock).

Meeting Katelyn’s was like tension running out of his body, returning to its original, comfortable position. It felt like the right thing to do, when they were face to face.

He only felt the smile on his face when Katelyn jostled him a bit for his unresponsiveness. “Babe, hey. I know I’m pretty, but I still need an answer, you know.”

Aaron gave her a mocking look and shrugged. He nuzzled closer to her, wanting to be as close to comfort as possible. “I dunno, Kaye. I might not even sleep tonight.”

Katelyn hummed. “Bullshit.”

“If you say so.”

Her voice was amused when she said, “You can barely even keep your eyes open.”

Aaron leaned out of her space, and opened his eyes as wide as he could, earning a loud laugh from her, loud enough to echo around the quiet room. Nicky looked up from where he was tangled with his boyfriend to look at them.

Aaron gave him a look.

Unceremoniously, Nicky pushed himself out of Erik’s lap, muttering something to his boyfriend as he wobbled into place. “Neil’s taking longer than usual,” he said, once he got his balance back.

Kevin, from where he was sitting on the far side of the room with Andrew, their backs to the room and their eyes on the elevator, spoke up, “A few bodyguards took him up to the meeting room earlier. If things go well up there, he’ll be down here in a few minutes.”

Allison stirred from where she was occupied with her phone next to a napping Renee. “And if it doesn’t go well?”

Andrew turned in his seat and answered, “We’re lucky if we get to see his corpse.”

Aaron gave his brother a look, one his brother didn’t see. He could see the tension in Andrew’s shoulders, his clenched fist turning his knuckles white. Andrew wasn’t as impassive about this as he let on, but he had let Neil go up that elevator on his own accord.

As if summoned by the sudden tension in the room, the elevators dinged. Andrew swiveled in his seat and stood up to see who it opened up for. The line of Kevin’s shoulders tensed a little from behind him.

Nicky approached the elevators slowly.

Neil stepped out.

The room gave a collective sigh of relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm putting this up with the epilogue, so, next chapter's notes are gonna have the tumblr post in it!


	9. he's calling out your name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title also from Brother by Matt Corby. really, y'all should give it a listen.

Aaron wanted to say something to him. Andrew didn’t know what it was, but it was obvious from the moment they dropped Neil, Nicky, and Kevin off at court that he was going to say something. The urgency of his twin’s want was lost to the white noise of the air-conditioning running, the engine humming beneath Andrew’s feet.

Andrew didn’t care. He had nothing to say to Aaron, and Aaron didn’t have enough balls to talk to him without prompting.

They had cancelled their session last Wednesday, prioritizing training instead of their issues. Extra training became fruitful, seeing as they’d won against the Ravens.

A lot had happened since last week.

This Wednesday, Riko Moriyama was dead, and his deadbeat uncle forcibly resigned (apparently under yakuza influences, according to Neil). The Ravens were dethroned, as the Foxes reigned champion for the first time since ever.

This Wednesday, Kevin was off the hook on their deal, since he didn’t have any apparent reason to go running back to the Nest and endanger himself. He and Moreau had gotten off easy, thanks to Neil’s inherent ability to talk himself out of any situation that could kill him, or harm his people. Whoever Ichirou Moriyama was, Andrew sends his condolences.

This Wednesday, Neil had permanently crawled his way under Andrew’s skin through understanding, and Andrew felt like he was tethered to life only by the sharp talons of the small pleasures he could live without in death (a new car, a quiet dorm room, a rest from Exy), and the wet kisses Neil pressed into his neck.

With the season over, things were going better than Andrew thought they could be, once upon a time.

Reddin Medical Hospital came into view before Andrew even noticed. Once parked, Andrew keyed off the engine. Aaron’s urge to speak with Andrew grew more and more the closer they got to entering Bee's office. Idly, Andrew wondered why Aaron didn’t just speak up about it and continue the conversation inside Bee’s office. After all, their Wednesday mornings were reserved exactly for the express purpose of working their collective issues out.

Bee was waiting in her office when they got there, as usual. She had two kettles going, one for tea or coffee, and one for hot cocoa. She always prepared hot cocoa with milk, which was mostly why she made it on Andrew’s short list of people to tolerate. Her office held the strong smell of detergent from the couch cushions, and it mixed in with the soft smell of perfume she always sprits’d around the air before sessions.

Her office was a structure of picture perfect symmetry, from the way the curtains were parted, to the office like set up of the couches, to her current patients: identical in every damn corner. It made Andrew’s fingers twitch in the slight urge to spread a little chaos around, screw with Bee’s obsessive-compulsive tendencies a little.

Just to satiate a bit of it, he nudged one of the figurines on her shelves when he walked by. Bee could only look on with fond exasperation.

Once the twins were seated, Bee set to working.

“Well, it’s been an eventful week since we last saw each other,” she started, shuffling through her notepad to look over what they had talked about last time. “Aaron gave you quite the proposal last time, Andrew. Before I ask about anything else, I wanted to know your decision on that so that we could talk about it.”

The kettle whistled from the other side of the room. It was the one set out for hot cocoa.

Dutifully, Aaron stood to get it. Subconsciously, Andrew reminded himself that Aaron only did that when he was nervous about something, usually if that something or someone was going to react violently about whatever else he thought would make them so. Aaron had done that back with Tilda, and with Nicky, and surely with Randy Boyd in the short time he spent at New York. Andrew wouldn't be surprised if Aaron did that with Matt too, now that he was out of Andrew's dorm. It was a reflex made out of pure defense.

Aaron thought Andrew was still mad about the bargain. He was right, but not for the reasons he thought.

“I chose Neil,” Andrew answered, pushing his twin out of his thoughts. Bee nodded, attentive. At the moment, she had ears for Andrew only. “Aaron can take care of himself.”

Aaron approached from Andrew’s right, setting down the mugs in front of him and Bee. His jaw was clenched tight, but otherwise, he kept to himself. As always.

Bee noticed this, and the instigating probably since she sent Andrew a look before turning her attention to his twin. “How did you take it, Aaron?” she asked.

Aaron fidgeted from where he stood, unsure whether he should sit back down before answering. Andrew watched his movements with great disinterest, knowing he’ll remember every single detail about it. “Well, sure, it’s freeing, for one. I don’t have to hide Katelyn anymore, so.”

Andrew raised a brow at him. As if feeling the skepticism sent his way, Aaron turned to glare down at him.

“What,” Aaron gritted out.

Andrew stared back up at him, not answering, knowing it would only serve to infuriate more, which was exactly why he did it.

Predictably, Aaron pushed on, irritated. “Don’t think I’m letting what happened at the library pass. The moment you agreed to it, the deal was on.”

Andrew huffed out a breath of what could have been a laugh, were he a more expressive person, reaching for his mug of hot cocoa. “I barely spoke to her. And they were parting words, since I was passing you off.”

(He didn’t actually expect her to _cry_. God, it was pitiful to see how low Aaron had sunk. In high school, he used to take interest in more solid women but Miller had taken only a measly brunt of Andrew’s anger and wept as if he’d done something as horrible as manipulate her into cheating on her boyfriend.

He'd done that, once or twice.)

“It doesn’t matter,” Aaron fumed, deciding that he’d had enough of Andrew’s games. _Wimp_. He stepped over Andrew’s feet to get to his seat on the other side of the couch they shared.

Silence reigned. Bee took a few sips from her mug before asking, “You don’t want anything to drink, Aaron?”

Aaron did not.

“Okay then,” she said. “Let me just– Actually, I hadn’t clarified the last question, sorry. Let me rephrase, Aaron. How did you take it, Andrew choosing Neil over you?”

It was silent again. Most of these sessions were, and both twins seemed to like it that way. Bee usually let them do it, but she made the most out of their long, sullen silences whenever she could. Andrew found it quite relaxing, whenever she rambles on about life. It’s like listening to music. It helps him keep the thoughts out.

“Aaron?” she called out.

Andrew didn’t know what she expected. Aaron wasn’t the sharing type.

“I’m thinking,” Aaron snapped under his breath.

Andrew raised his brows, but kept his gaze on Bee, who kept her gaze on Aaron. He sipped at his hot cocoa, waiting.

“You don’t have to answer that. We could just proceed.”

“Well, I’m done thinking, so. It feels shitty, okay? I’m mature enough to admit that much.”

Andrew turned his head to look at his twin. Aaron didn’t move. He kept his eyes on the floor, as if it’d give out underneath his feet if he didn’t have at least part of it in his sights.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Bee really had her condescending days. Andrew could feel Aaron restraining himself. “Aaron, we may never know what went on in Tilda’s head when she had the both of you. But you did want her to choose you.”

All Aaron could give was a little “no”, weak and vulnerable.

“You did. It never mattered much to you if she was too high to tell otherwise, you just wanted her to choose you. When you couldn’t have that, when you found out you had a brother, you were curious, weren’t you? Andrew was given up for foster care. Finally, there was proof that she chose you.”

“No,” Aaron said, this time much louder, much stronger. “She didn’t. She said so. She only brought back one of us, she gave both of us away. It was a fifty-fifty split on which twin got the shit end of the stick. Stop it.”

This Bee was unstoppable. Andrew had met this Bee twice before. Last time and a time before the twins' sessions were joint. It wasn’t that she was angry or wanted to keep things going now that they’d started rolling downhill. It was that she’d surmised, after the last session, that this was the only way to crack Aaron open. There was no easing him into this, the stupid logical idiot, there was only laying down the facts he denied himself

Aaron was only helping her break him down.

“When Andrew came back with your uncle, he struck you a deal,” Bee continued. “He’d protect you from women from then on, for exchange of no friends, no contacts ever. And you agreed. It wasn’t because you wanted Tilda to stop. It was because you knew Andrew was choosing you. Just you. You’ve wanted that for so long.”

“ _Stop it_.”

“And now he’d chosen Neil.”

Andrew finally saw where this was going, and it was already over.

Aaron’s fists held a white-knuckled grip on the knees of his track pants. The hot cocoa inside Andrew’s mug was shaking. He realized it was because his hands were shaking while holding it.

When had he gone from looking at Aaron to looking at his mug?

“I don’t care,” Aaron muttered, back to being weak and vulnerable now that the storm had passed. “I don’t care, if he chose Neil or not. He’s a fucking adult, he can make his own stupid fucking choices.”

The rest of the session was spent in silence, with Andrew and Bee finishing their cocoas. Bee didn’t see it in herself to apologize for opening Aaron up like that.

When time was up, Aaron was out of his seat before Bee could tell them when the next session was. Bee told Andrew instead.

“Wednesday, again,” she said as Andrew helped her gather mugs into the small sink by her closet. “Andrew, try to talk to him this time. Or, tell him it’s an exercise.”

Andrew shrugged. Bee sighed and mimicked him.

On his way out, she said, “Congrats on winning, again.”

Andrew didn’t respond.

 

Aaron was waiting in the parking lot, sitting against the hood of the Maserati, looking distraught and weary. Andrew stood in front of him in full height, as tall as he could be, a cigarette already lit between his lips.

“Good luck on the trial,” Andrew said blandly.

Aaron looked up and rolled his eyes. The tension in his shoulders didn’t ease up one bit. “She tell us to talk to each other and make it an exercise?”

Andrew shrugged.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Aaron insisted, though it did and it didn’t. The twins barely talked to each other unless needed, and yet this had taken everything and forced it under a new light.

He hated change. So did Andrew. It was one of those things they agreed on, like milk before cereal, or their favorite color, or preferences of whether or not exploring space is better than exploring the waters around the earth.

Andrew didn’t say ‘ _yes, it does_ ’ like he wanted to _._ He doesn’t say ‘ _I would chose you again, if you’d given me the choice of choosing you both_ ’ like a liar.

He settled for the truth. “You didn’t deserve getting hit by her.”

Aaron sighed. “And you didn’t deserve foster care. Look where knowing that’s got us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, it's been quite a journey with y'all. i just want to thank [dazedsam](http://dazedsam.tumblr.com) for being a trooper and supporting me all through this grand adventure of finally writing in aaron's perspective. i'll edit in the tumblr post later, when i get back from school.
> 
> EDIT: i am back from school and [here](http://stubbornjerk.tumblr.com/post/155713092375) is the tumblr post, for reblogging purposes. tell your friends about aaron michael minyard!
> 
> i hoped y'all liked this conclusion as much as i did! it was the most satisfying thing i could conclude this whole fiasco with. i appreciate all comments, late to the game or otherwise. please do let me know how much love you're giving aaron after this series !! <3

**Author's Note:**

> i'll update when i can, folks!! exams only recently released me from its clutches, but school isn't relenting for projects just yet.
> 
> if you wanna, you can contact me on my [tumblr](http://stubbornjerk.tumblr.com). Or, you can reblog the [text post](http://stubbornjerk.tumblr.com/post/154280084205) if you want to support the cause that is me being motivated to continue this!


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